


College Relationships are Inherently Complicated

by sushibomb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Doggy Style, Drunk Sex, Fantasizing, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Riding, Switching, Teasing, Underage Drinking, Versatile Pairing, i think, kuroo and oikawa are switches, sums it up best, there is no top/bottom dynamic going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushibomb/pseuds/sushibomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is eccentric and sexual and somewhat mischievous. That's the general impression Oikawa has of him. But over time they've become so involved in each other's lives that Oikawa just can't imagine what his college life would be like without Kuroo in it. A series of one to two-shots detailing how their unique relationship came to be.</p><p>More tags and characters to appear as the fic progresses.</p><p>Chapter 6: Rainy Days and Eyes Aglaze</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How the Mind Wanders

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have high hopes for Oikawa and Kuroo eventually meeting in HQ! Canon, but for now I have to settle for writing self-indulgent college AUs. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Haikyuu belongs to Haruichi Furudate. This fic was written solely to entertain.

It begins with a glance.

Quick, fleeting, and there is nothing even remotely seductive or romantic about it at all. Just a brief locking of eyes from across the hall as they say their goodbyes to their parents. Or more accurately, as Oikawa is smothered in his mother’s over-clingy and desperate embrace as she cries into his shoulder, blubbering because her son is now a grown man living on his own in Tokyo.

“Mom, come on, you’re embarrassing me.” Oikawa says with an affectionate smile as he delicately pries her off and wipes her tears. “I’m only a few hours away.”

Of course, this does nothing to assuage her, instead sending his mother into another fit of hysterics. She’s always been a bit overdramatic, so Oikawa accepts the scene for what it is. He pulls his mother into another hug and just lets her get it out of her system, stroking her hair softly and giving his dad an apologetic look.

His gaze floats down the hall, where another family is also parting ways. He recognizes them from orientation, due in large part to the fact that the boy and his mother were pretty much arguing the entire time. And it doesn’t look like they’ve reconciled since then. She’s already slapping on her over-sized sunglasses and walking towards the elevators, not bothering to hug her son goodbye or even spare him a second glance. The sharp clicks of her high heels on the tiles echo down the hall but fade quickly. His father appears to at least be making an effort to part on good terms, ham-fisted though it may be. Oikawa can’t decide what’s more painful to watch.

And unconsciously, he hugs his mother a little tighter, suddenly feeling more appreciative of her too tight but warm embrace. Not everyone is blessed with wonderful parents like he is.

The other boy’s gaze is indifferent as his father lectures him on taking his time there seriously and making something of himself. The other boy nods mechanically; clearly this isn’t the first time he’s heard this. “We’re just a phone call away if you need us.” His father finally says before hesitantly putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. He pats it twice, not meeting his son’s almost amused stare, before nodding and following his wife down the hall.

The vaguely melancholic amusement in the other teen’s eyes doesn’t fade, even as he leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, watching his parents board the elevator. “I’m sure you are.” Oikawa hears him mutter with a bitter laugh. It’s right then that the other teen looks around, the sight of his parents leaving already nothing more than an unpleasant afterthought. His gaze briefly falls on Oikawa, who is still wrapped up in his mother’s arms. Oikawa tries to offer a sympathetic smile but before he gets the chance the other boy is already looking elsewhere. He surveys the rest of the hall with disinterest before easing himself off the door frame and walking into his room, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

Oikawa sees him again later that night, after everyone has more or less settled in, grabbing a soda from one of the vending machines downstairs. He’s with a friend, who Oikawa also remembers seeing at orientation; a tall, owl-ish looking kid with spiked white and grey hair. He’s casually leaning against the machine, reading something off of his phone, which makes the dark-haired teen laugh loudly and turn to him, though Oikawa can’t exactly hear what he’s saying.

He has a nice smile though, Oikawa thinks. He looks a lot more relaxed now than this afternoon.

They walk away from the machine just as Oikawa reaches it, and in passing, their eyes meet again. Oikawa flashes a pleasant half-smile as they brush past each other and the other teen returns it, though it looks more like a twitch of the lip than a real smile.

* * *

His first few nights in his new dorm are much too quiet. Too quiet, and lonely.

His roommate isn’t scheduled to arrive until the end of the week, so Oikawa has the dorm all to himself, but it’s not as great as he thought it would be. He never realized how much silence bothered him until it’s all he hears at night, so many of his nights are instead spent sitting in front of his TV, eating ice cream out of the container because he can't sleep. There’s never really anything on that grabs his attention, but the background noise is comforting in a way, so he leaves it on until he falls asleep.

 He refuses to call home so soon, because he wants to prove to his parents that letting him go to school in Tokyo instead of back in Miyagi wasn’t a huge mistake. He misses them, though. Terribly. He misses Iwa-chan, too. It was hard to hear that his best friend wanted to attend school in their hometown instead of moving out to the city with him, but Iwa-chan assured him that he would be online often so they could keep in touch. And it’s not like it’s for forever, right?

 Iwa-chan is not online tonight, however, so with no one to talk to and nothing on, Oikawa turns off the TV, slips out of his clothes, and gets in the shower, deciding to turn in early. He still hasn’t quite figured out the controls in the shower because they’re completely backwards from his own setup at home, but when he finally gets the hot water running, a tiny smile spreads across his face. It’s freezing in his bedroom, so the tepid water on his skin feels incredible. He turns the tap so it’s a little hotter and stands under the stream for a long time, letting it run over his face and through his hair until his cheeks, neck, and chest are flushed from the temperature.

It’s relaxing but not nearly as relaxing as he needs it to be, so he reaches down and wraps a hand around his dick, a soft moan escaping him at the feeling of his palm brushing over the head. He starts to pump it slowly, letting his head fall back and his eyes slide shut. His cock is rigid and warm in his hand in a few short minutes, and Oikawa thinks belatedly that it’s been way too long since the last time he masturbated. He’ll probably feel much better after he comes.

 The familiar warmth quickly begins to pool at the base of his spine as he strokes himself, his grip tight, fast, and unrelenting. The hard stream of the water just barely drowns out his pants and moans and the sound of skin moving furiously over skin, and Oikawa is inwardly grateful that his roommate hasn’t arrived yet. He momentarily thinks back to one night in high school after a game, where his now ex-girlfriend went down on him for the first time. It’s a fleeting thought, one of many in his mental folder of things to think about while jerking off. His thoughts gradually shift from her to Iwa-chan, but it’s hard for him to think of Iwa-chan that way, so he forces his mind to wander elsewhere.

He suddenly thinks of the boy down the hall, and he stops for a second, considering it. Tall and cut, with wild, messy black hair and narrow bedroom eyes and nice full lips. The dark-haired teen is sexy as hell, Oikawa thinks with a shameless groan, and right now that’s all he needs to continue. He resumes his pumping, letting his eyes fall shut again. He imagines that those pretty gold eyes, strangely feline and darkened with lust, are focused on him and reveling in watching him get off, and that it’s not his own hand wrapped around his cock, but the dark-haired teen’s.  

Oikawa falls back against the shower wall with a languid moan. In his head, the other teen is now on his knees in front of him, hair wet and matted, and those same eyes are now looking up at him as smirking lips wrap around his cock to suck him off. The picture is so vivid in Oikawa’s mind that he can almost feel the other’s hands anchoring his hips against the wall, keeping him steady as he hollows his cheeks and takes more of his dick in his mouth, moving back and forth over it slowly.

Oikawa slows his pace accordingly, teasing the head of his cock with his thumb until precum beads at the tip. In his head, it’s the flat of the other teen’s tongue that is dragging over the slit and not his finger. The sensation is maddening. A new wave of pleasure sends a violent tremor up his body and his eyes roll back as a shaky gasp escapes him. “…Mmm…fuck…” He pants and gradually starts pumping his cock faster, snagging his bottom lip in his teeth.

He leans forward to brace himself against the wall with his forearm, feeling his climax mounting. His erratic breathing and moans are all he can hear as he pushes himself closer and closer to the edge, until his breath hitches and his entire body shudders. He moans into his arm as the warmth spasms through his body, from his core to the tips of his fingers and toes. Oikawa lets out another shaky groan and collapses tiredly agasint the wall, gripping the tip of his cock tightly, milking out the last of his orgasm and smiling with exhaustion and satisfaction at the sight of his cum sliding down the wall and pooling around the shower drain.

It’s a lot, he thinks with an embarrassed grimace. He shouldn’t stave his needs off for so long, it’s not healthy _. “_ I need to get laid.” He mutters as he weakly pushes himself back up to a standing position; his entire body feels like jello, but he manages to stumble back into his bedroom and flick the lightswitch off before falling face-first onto his bed.

He lays there for awhile before wiggling out of his towel and crawling under the sheets, not even bothering with boxers, too spent to really put much effort into anything. He’s never slept in the buff before, but he definitely gets the appeal of it. He rolls over onto his stomach and the fabric of his thin sheet brushes against the hyper-sensitive tip of his dick, sending a little jolt up his body that bubbles out as a tiny, pathetic-sounding whimper into his pillow.

It’s a pleasurable feeling though, so Oikawa lays there, grinding against his bed softly, enjoying the light friction. The image of a hard body and black hair start to float around in his mind again and his cock twitches faintly, but he slowly drifts off before he gets worked up enough to touch himself again.


	2. A Crush is a Sign of Bad Karma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have high hopes for Oikawa and Kuroo eventually meeting in HQ! Canon, but for now I have to settle for writing self-indulgent college AUs. I said this last chapter too, and I sincerely hope more people jump on this ship tbh
> 
> Sorry for the first chapter being so short and abrupt. That's the only one that will be like that from this point on. Also...yeah it totally slipped my mind that actual college dorms are soooo not apartments...but I already wrote it like that, so for all intents and purposes, their dorms are basically small apartments. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Haikyuu belongs to Haruichi Furudate. This fic was written solely to entertain.

Their first real physical interaction happens rather unexpectedly, near the middle of the first semester. It catches Oikawa completely off guard in a way he never imagines he could be, and it leaves him feeling a little jarred and unsettled, but not necessarily in a bad way. Very unlike the downpour that led to it happening in the first place.

His night time jog is cemented into his daily routine, and has been since middle school, because Oikawa is just a creature of habit like that. But as he runs hurriedly down the path that winds around the campus, his plain white tee drenched from the sudden torrent of water, he thinks that perhaps he should consider paying attention to the weather more often before just waltzing out the door, and more importantly, listening to his roommate when he gives practical advice like ‘bring a jacket, it’s probably going to rain soon.’

It doesn’t help that the temperature is already dropping considerably because of the hour, and Oikawa generally isn’t a fan of the cold to begin with. So cold _and_ rainy is a hellish combination, as far as he’s concerned. What’s worse, there aren’t any stops or overhangs that he can run under to wait the storm out on this part of the path, so he has no choice but to keep moving until he reaches his dorm. Oikawa pushes himself harder, flat-out sprinting down the dirt path, trying to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He thanks his lucky stars when he sees his dorm come into view and forces himself to run faster. In a few short minutes, he runs through the double doors of the dorm lobby, panting harshly with his hands on his knees and dripping water everywhere.

“Goddamn…” He hisses. His calves are burning and his knee is throbbing to the point of being unbearable. Each step sends a sharp jolt of pain up his entire body, so much so that he has to stop a few feet away from the elevators to lean against the wall and collect himself. He clenches his eyes shut as another wave of pain moves up his body, sending a lone tear sliding down his cheek. He prays desperately that he has something just a _little_ stronger than ibuprofen for the pain when he - _if_ \- he manages to get up to his room, which is already proving more difficult than he anticipated.  He’ll be limping badly by the time he gets off the elevator, that he is sure of.

“Hey man, are you alright?” Someone suddenly calls to him from across the lobby, which elicits an embarrassingly loud shriek from Oikawa and makes him stumble slightly. The abrupt movement does absolutely nothing to help the pain in his knee.

“Son of a bitch!” He curses loudly, leaning against the wall and clutching his leg.

“Jeez, sorry I asked.” The person mutters in response. Oikawa quickly turns, a little annoyed. “That wasn’t directed at _you_ , obviously. My knee is messed up. I jus…” He trails off when he recognizes two familiar and, at the moment, concerned faces. They’re both standing at the opposite end of the small lobby, also sopping wet from the rain. The white-haired kid pushes himself up from where he was leaning against the wall ringing water out of his track pants and jogs over.

“Sorry,” He begins apologetically as he slows to a walk, “didn't mean to scare you.” 

Oikawa sighs tiredly, slumping back against the wall on his arm. “It’s alright, I just wasn't paying attention.”

The other teen nods and points down at his leg. “What’s up with your leg?”

“I hurt my knee during practice a couple of years ago, and I put too much stress on it running just now.”

The white-haired teen frowns at that. “Shit man, sorry. You need a hand up to your room?  I mean, me and Kuroo can help you up, if you want.” He says, gesturing behind him to the dark-haired teen, who is still trying to ring the water out of his hair.

“No, no. I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad yet,” Oikawa lies with a pained laugh. It _is_ that bad, worse in fact, and he really does need a hand. But they don’t need to know that. He has his pride. “I just need to ice it and take some painkillers before it does, though.”

White-hair’s head cocks to the side in confusion, apparently not quite satisfied with that answer.

Oikawa discreetly runs his eyes up and down his body when he turns to call to his friend. He didn't think much of him the first time he saw him, aside from that he was loud and funny, but now that he sees him up close, with his normally spiky hair wet and sticking to his face, he’s pretty hot, too. But he’s got nothing on the delectable slice of ass walking up behind him, using the bottom of his tank top to wipe water from his face, unintentionally giving Oikawa a nice view of not only his impressive six pack, but of the tiny tattoo near the V of his hip. Oikawa bites the inside of his lip, a tiny groan nearly leaving his throat. His body is even nicer in real life than in the occasional masturbatory fantasies he’s been harboring for most of the semester, he thinks, and the thought of being sandwiched between the two of them as they help him back to his room is suddenly very appealing.

He licks his bottom lip. Of course, he wouldn't mind being caught between the two of them in other ways, too. Namely, with one in his ass and one in his mouth. He’s always kind of wanted to be in a threesome, after all. Who better to join him than the frequent object of his ‘alone time’ daydreams and his hot friend.

He feels his cock twitch in his pants, and Oikawa frowns at himself mentally. _God…I should really learn to get my priorities in order._

This is definitely _not_ the time to be having shallow and kinky thoughts. He knows this, but they’re difficult thoughts to clear out of his mind, especially when the dark-haired teen’s wet tank top is sticking to his torso like a wet, flimsy glove.

So now his dick _and_ his knee are throbbing; one in pleasure and one in pain, he’s dripping wet and freezing his ass off, and he’s in front of the two people he would've least liked to look like a drowned, slightly horny rat in front of.

All in all, he’s been better.

But god _damn_ are these city boys a breed apart, he thinks to himself. This has to be some sort of divine, cosmic apology for the rain and his knee. It has to be.

“Looks like we weren't the only ones caught out in the rain, huh?”  He says with a small grin when he reaches them. Oikawa clears his throat and forces himself to focus on the other teen’s eyes and _only_ his eyes, but it’s hard to keep himself from noticing so much when there is so much to notice. He can feel his face burning, and he hopes like hell that it’s because he’s feverish from pain and not because he’s blushing as hotly as he thinks he might be.

That would really be the icing on the cake at this point.

“I should listen to my roommate more. He actually pays attention to the weather.” Oikawa says with a forced laugh, and the two teens laugh with him.

“At least one of you is aware of the weather,” The dark-haired teen says, and Oikawa’s eyebrows furrow a little at how sexy his voice is, “That’s way better than the system we've got going at the moment.”

White-hair leans in, resting an arm on his friend’s shoulder. “And by ‘system’, Kuroo obviously means lack thereof. I always tell him to check the weather on the news when we leave-”

“-And I _never_ watch the news.” The dark-haired teen quickly cuts in, smirking. “I’m Kuroo, by the way. And this,” He gestures with a nod of the head to his friend, who is beaming widely, “Is Bokuto.”

“Oikawa.” Oikawa responds, inwardly pleased to finally have a name to go with the face. He’s also glad to have a name to moan out when he beats off, but he quickly pushes that thought out of his head before it reads on his face. He doesn’t need to know about that. Not yet, anyway.

They’re both eyeing him curiously but Kuroo, as he now knows his name to be, is staring at him just a little more intently than his friend is, and his admittedly penetrating gaze is intense enough that Oikawa feels both stifled and hyper-aware of every single obvious flaw on his body right now. He must look like a train wreck, he thinks.

There is something decidedly predatory in his gaze too though, especially when his eyes drop down to his body before roving back up until they’re making eye contact again, and _that_ Oikawa likes a lot more. So despite being in pain, he pushes his confidence to the forefront and flashes a cute smirk; the flirty one he knows made his fangirls go weak at the knees.

Bokuto suddenly snaps his fingers. “Say, you’re in the room a few doors down from us, right? On the opposite side?”

“Hm?” Oikawa blinks and shifts his eyes to the white-haired teen, though out of the corner of his eye, he catches the impish look that briefly passes over Kuroo’s face and inwardly swells with pride.

Good. Maybe he doesn’t look as awful right now as he previously thought.

“Yeah, I think so.” He says after a moment.

“The offer still stands, by the way. We’ll help you out if you want. Right?” He turns to Kuroo, who nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll give you a hand, too. It’d be my pleasure.” He practically purrs, sizing him up. Oikawa’s mouth goes dry at the obvious innuendo.

It’s a tempting offer, but Oikawa shakes his head. “No, that’s alright, seriously. I’ll be okay.” He argues as he turns to walk towards the elevators again, trying not to look like he’s in the amount of pain and discomfort that he’s in. But he’s close to limping and also shivering uncontrollably, and he knows they can tell. Kuroo and Bokuto share a look before walking after him. It feels a lot like two hyenas trailing after him, and he’s the dying zebra.

 The air conditioning in the hallway suddenly comes on, sending a frigid draft through the entire lobby and Oikawa gasps audibly at the cold air hitting his bare arms, further derailing his previous protests. The unremitting pain in his knee has also come back full force, coursing up from his knee through his leg and lower body; pain that is only further emphasized by the chilly air.

He really needs to get to his room and take a hot shower and some pain pills before he keels over.

 “Hey, hang on a sec,” Kuroo stops him with a hand on his shoulder, shrugging off his jacket. “Take this.” He says, holding it out, “It’s one of the water-resistant ones, so it’s dry inside. Should warm you up a little.”

Oikawa looks at him, puzzled. “Your shirt’s wet.”

“I had it unzipped.”

Oikawa glances down at it before looking at Kuroo, noticing that, true to fact, the only parts of him that are actually wet are his hair and face, the entire front side of his torso, and his sweatpants. It’s a hell of a view, and Oikawa can’t help but drink it up for a second.

“Thanks.” He says finally, taking it and slipping it on. He zips it up, reveling in the warmth of the other teen’s body heat in the inside fabric. He closes his eyes with a satisfied exhale, already feeling the shivers lessening. It’s super nice and snug, but he doesn’t realize how snug he’s getting in it until he hears Kuroo chuckle.

“Comfy?” Kuroo asks with a slightly teasing grin, and Oikawa sputters a little, looking away pointedly. “Ye-yes. It’s great, thanks.”

The elevator ‘dings’ and the door opens. Oikawa slowly walks onto the elevator, Kuroo and Bokuto strolling in behind him. They stand on either side of him, like two bodyguards. “I’m fine.” He mutters, insistent. Bokuto gives him a sideways glance, grinning jokingly.

“We believe you. We _also_ live on the same floor as you, though.” He says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says from the other side of him, the same amusement mirrored in his tone, “Were you expecting us to wait for the next elevator, Oikawa- _san_? That’s a little selfish, don’t you think?”

Oikawa flushes, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm in the tiny room. He didn't mean it like that at all, but now he’s too embarrassed to bring up the fact that they’re both standing very close to him. He doesn’t _mind_ that they’re doing it, of course. He’s just aware of it.

The ride up is thankfully quick. The door opens on the fourth floor and Oikawa is the first to walk, no, _hobble_ out, into the hallway, with the two grinning teens once again leisurely sauntering out after him.

His knee is going to give any second, he can feel it, but he hopes it happens after the two teens behind him go into their room. He also hopes neither of them notices how badly he’s staggering, but it’s for not. As they step off the elevator behind him, he hears a set of keys thrown, followed by a quiet ‘I’ll be there in a second’. _That_ is followed by a strong arm suddenly sliding under his armpit and around his waist, hoisting him up and supporting him while he walks. Oikawa rolls his eyes, embarrassed, but also really glad that he’s helping, and not just because he likes the way Kuroo’s hard body feels pressed flush against his side.

He’s skipping class tomorrow, he decides then. His knee just can’t take anymore aggravation for the next couple of days. So much for sticking to his routine.

Still, “You didn't have to help me, you know.”Oikawa mutters as they trek down the hall together. Kuroo laughs. “Man, you’re kind of bratty, aren't you? I’m not surprised that your knee is so messed up. You push yourself too much. It’s alright to chill and ask for help when you need it, you know.”

Oikawa bristles. “I am not _bratty_.”

“Hmmm…yeah, a little. Most people would just give in and say ‘thank you’ by now.”

Oikawa groans, but realizes that Kuroo has a point. He’s being unusually stubborn about this, but he just doesn’t feel comfortable with people that aren't Iwa-chan or his parents fussing over him. He doesn’t like feeling indebted, either.

Regardless, he pouts but does give in. “…Thank you.” He says in a small voice, barely above a whisper.

Kuroo doesn’t respond, other than a lopsided smile.

They reach Oikawa’s door after a few short seconds and he reaches into his pocket, fumbling around for his keys slightly. Kuroo pulls away. “You good?” He asks, moving back a step to give him some space, hands tucked in his pockets, and Oikawa immediately misses the heat from his body against him. He’s still kind of cold.

“Y-yeah.” He stutters out, roughly shoving the key into the lock and turning it. Kuroo notices this and a strange smile emerges on his face. He looks like he wants to say something, but closes his mouth, deciding against it.

“What?” Oikawa asks, curious. Kuroo shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing. See ya around, I guess.”He says and starts to head down the hall to his own dorm. It’s then that Oikawa looks down at himself and notices he’s still wearing Kuroo’s jacket.

“Oh hey, what about your jacket?” He calls out. Kuroo stops in his tracks and looks back at him over his shoulder, smirking softly. He thinks something over for a second and the smirk widens, wide enough to show canines, and walks back over to Oikawa. “Just give it back whenever.” He says as he gets closer. Too close, Oikawa thinks. He doesn’t stop until he has Oikawa pressed up against the door, cornering him in place with a hand on the door, the other hand resting delicately on Oikawa’s hip.

For a second, Oikawa thinks that Kuroo plans on kissing him. Their faces are inches apart, so close he can feel his breath on his cheek. But Kuroo just gives him a strangely knowing look and leans into his ear. “You can wear it while you play with _this_ ,” He says quietly, patting his crotch a couple of times, “later.”

Oikawa is speechless.

He pushes Kuroo away roughly, blushing wildly. “W-wha, why would-” He babbles. Of all the things he expected, he was not ready for _that_. That was fucking arrogant, he thinks heatedly, trying to steady his racing heart. Shockingly perceptive, but arrogant all the same.

Kuroo laughs loudly as he walks away, but it’s not malicious. Just way too amused, which is somehow worse, Oikawa realizes.

“Hey,” he hears Kuroo call to him before he opens his door, “Don’t get it dirty, please. I like that hoodie.” He says with a lecherous smirk before he walks into his room and closes the door, leaving Oikawa out in the hallway alone in stunned silence.

He shuffles into his dorm and closes the door behind him. In the silence, he can hear his heart beating erratically in his chest. His knee is pulsing with pain too. He limps into his room and sits on the bed, digging around in his nightstand for the bottle of percocet he keeps with him in case of emergencies like this. He swallows one dry and lays back, sighing tiredly.

He slings an arm over his eyes, and under his skin he can feel that his face is flaming hot.

Amid the scrambled thoughts bouncing around in his head, he recalls all the times in middle school and high school when he was surrounded by scores of adoring fans, both female and male, and how he used to flirt and tease them so mercilessly, just because it was important to him that people were intimidated by how attractive and friendly he was. There was a power in that for him, one that made him feel untouchable. He used to think their little blushes and incoherent babbling were adorable back then; and secretly, he’d always think about them going home and locking themselves in their rooms with nothing but his face in their minds. He loved thinking about them sliding their hands up their uniform skirts and into their panties, wishing it was his hand instead.

But now, as he lays there, trying in vain to ignore how painfully hard his cock is in his pants, he feels a bit of guilt well up in him, because he thinks he finally understands what it’s like to be completely blindsided by that kind of unyielding visceral attraction. He hasn't had a genuine crush on anyone since his ex-girlfriend, and even she never had him like this –panting, blushing, and stroking his cock through his sweatpants.

It’s no longer an occasional fantasy, he realizes. He has a crush on Kuroo. And a rather intense one, at that.

He thinks with a mental grimace that this might be karma coming back around to kick his ass for being such a narcissistic prick in the past.

He pulls a stray hair from the sleeve of Kuroo’s jacket, which he belatedly realizes he hasn’t taken off yet. He considers doing so, but it’s warm and it smells good, like cologne and the faint musk of sweat. It’s an arousing combination, so he turns to lie on his side, inhaling deeply into the sleeve, pushing all thoughts of how this is slightly humiliating and kind of kinky out of his mind.

He needs the release. And, he thinks evilly in the back of his mind, he hopes he gets it dirty, too, just to spite Kuroo. He wonders how he’d react.

Swallowing thickly, he pulls his phone from his pocket and texts his roommate with one hand, the other already creeping down the front of his pants to wrap around his cock.

**_Are you going to be out long?_ **

Thankfully, his roommate replies quickly.

**_Yeah, I’m at the library. I've got a crazy long paper due in psych tomorrow so don’t wait up._ **

“Oh, thank God.” Oikawa sighs in relief as he quickly texts back a simple ‘okay’ and tosses his phone on the nightstand. The last thing he needs is for his poor, innocent roommate to walk in on him half-naked and jerking off.

The only person he wants to see him like this is down the hall, hopefully doing the same thing.

 With a soft groan, he gently lifts his hips off the bed and pushes his sweats down to his ankles, along with his boxers. His cock is thick and jutting straight up from between his legs. He stares at the flushed, reddened tip for a second before gripping it tightly, not even bothering to move slowly at first. He twists his hand around it from the tip to the base, moving faster until the side of his hand is pounding into his pelvis and he’s moaning a little louder than he is comfortable with.

It’s not enough, though. He wants to rolls over onto his knees and finger his ass so badly, wants to imagine Kuroo fucking him savagely from behind until he comes, but the percocet isn't kicking in as fast as it usually does so even the slightest bend of the knee has him seeing stars. With an annoyed groan, he flops his head onto his pillow, frustratedly pumping his dick until his back arches and he shudders, coating his bare stomach in his essence.

It doesn’t last long. The only thing the fucking percocet did, it seems, was dull his orgasm considerably. Pissed off, Oikawa rolls onto his side, exhausted. As he shifts, he gets a good whiff of Kuroo’s cologne and despite his annoyance, he grins a little into his pillow. He really likes the way it smells.

He’ll try again in the morning, when his roommate leaves for his ten a.m. class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Tease


	3. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I love writing hot and heavy make outs, please forgive me I've had a hard week
> 
> Also, thanks so much for all of the wonderful kudos and comments. Sorry that I haven't responded to comments personally; I'm a huge loser and idk but I'll try to from now on!
> 
> Disclaimer: Haikyuu belongs to Haruichi Furudate. This fic was written solely to entertain.

It’s so stupid. So, so, stupid.

It’s stupid and childish and frustrating and kind of fucked up too, to be honest. Oikawa hates how aware of all of those things he is, but still he sits here in front of Kuroo’s door, at a loss. It’s been nearly a week since they met, since Oikawa realized his interest in Kuroo is more than just a passing fancy. He’s got it bad, and he knows it. And what’s worse, Kuroo obviously knows it, too.

It’s embarrassing.

It’s so easy, Oikawa tells himself mentally. Just don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll be fine.

But every time he sees Kuroo in passing in the hallways and Kuroo flashes him _that_ smile that makes Oikawa want to knock all of those perfect teeth right out of that aggravatingly kissable mouth but _also_ makes him want to grab Kuroo and fuck him senseless, he just can’t seem to keep his cool. It’s easier said than done, because Kuroo is not someone that inspires calm or anything like it.

The total opposite, in fact.

Granted, they've never had a formal conversation, but from what Oikawa has seen so far, he’s unpredictable, cunning, and kind of cocky too. Oikawa isn't sure what to make of him. He prides himself on being able to figure people out pretty quickly, it’s always been one of his strong points. But Kuroo is honestly a mystery to him. A hot, shameless mystery.

This is a really messed up crush, and he knows that it is. He wondered for a few days after they met if what Kuroo said and did was just a heat of the moment sort of thing, and after a while he nearly convinced himself that it was. Most would just call it shameless flirting, but after thinking about it, Oikawa realizes that that’s not it at all, because Oikawa himself is a shameless flirt.

Kuroo is a tease, and a merciless one at that.

There is a huge difference between being a flirt and being a tease, though Oikawa wasn't really aware of that difference before now. He flirts with people because he wants them to like him and have the impression that he’s a good person. Kuroo’s brand of flirtation, however, stems from conceit.

“You've got a pretty huge fucking ego, you know that?” Is the first thing Oikawa can think to say when Kuroo finally answers the door. There’s no real bite to it; just a fact that he felt needed to be pointed out, mostly because it’s the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks about Kuroo.

Well…the _second_ thing that comes to mind.

Kuroo blinks back, still half-asleep and yawns widely, his toothbrush nearly falling out of his mouth. But even with his already messy hair sticking up in all directions and a somewhat glazed expression and his mouth covered with toothpaste froth, Kuroo still somehow manages to cut an impressive figure; the sight of Kuroo’s chiseled chest and flat stomach is distracting enough to push any reasonable thought out of his mind, and for a second, Oikawa loses his nerve, unable to even form a proper sentence.

That is, until Kuroo pops the toothbrush out of his mouth and leans against the door frame, grinning that same sly grin that further erases any inkling of articulate speech Oikawa might have once had. “Yeah, I _do_ have a huge ego. Enormous _,_ in fact… ” Kuroo wipes the toothpaste off his mouth with the towel hanging around his neck. “…and in desperate need of a _good, hard stroke_ and lots of attention.”

Oikawa’s eyes snap right back up to meet Kuroo’s amused ones, one eyebrow cocked delicately. Coming from anyone else, that blatant dick metaphor would've warranted an exasperated face palm, on the count of the immense second hand embarrassment felt by hearing it. But Kuroo lets it roll off his tongue with such easy confidence that Oikawa can’t help but smirk, a bit incredulously, at how simultaneously slick and blunt that was, suddenly feeling very hot in spite of the cool air blowing through the hallway.

_Damn, that was so smooth._

Kuroo is cocky as hell, and Oikawa can’t deny that he’s both annoyed and aroused by it. It’s hard not to be turned on by confidence, and Kuroo radiates it in crushing, heavy waves. 

“But you didn't come here just to tell me that, did you?” He asks, chuckling, though his voice is low and still somewhat hoarse from sleep. “Or did you just want to burn the image of my morning wood into your memory before class?”

Oikawa forces himself to look away from Kuroo’s body and look him in the eye, mentally cursing himself for being so weak. But honestly, it’s impossible not to stare. Kuroo’s baggy cargo pants are on but unfastened and hanging dangerously low on his hips, leaving his finely toned lower abs and the flat V of his hips tantalizingly visible. It doesn’t help that Kuroo has one hand fisted in his pocket, pushing his pants even _lower_ , though it is very clear that that’s not an accident.

“Do you always answer the door half-naked?” Oikawa quips, folding his arms across his chest. He’s still clutching Kuroo’s jacket, which is the main reason he’s even standing here in the first place, in his hand. 

Kuroo shrugs. “Nope, not usually. I thought you were Bokuto, actually. He went to grab us some breakfast awhile ago and he forgot his keys. _Again_.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, I just came to give you this,” Oikawa says, handing over the jacket.

Kuroo accepts it quietly, though the one question Oikawa really does _not_ want Kuroo to ask; the one Kuroo is clearly _dying_ to ask, is written all over his face, if the way his eyebrows suddenly draw together and the way he starts to chew on his bottom lip is anything to go by. And seeing as how, if he were in Kuroo’s shoes, he would literally react the exact same way, Oikawa knows he isn't mistaken.

A very tiny part of him wants Kuroo to just spit it out already, so he can get it off his chest. Because secretly, he kind of wants Kuroo to know all the dirty things he thought about him while jerking himself off, wants to tell him about how crappy the first time around was, because of his knee and the painkillers he took. He really wants Kuroo to know about how good he made up for it the next morning, the second his roommate left. How he fucked himself with his fingers while grinding his cock into his mattress, gasping and moaning Kuroo’s name the entire time. With his eyes closed and Kuroo’s faint scent in his nose, it’s good enough to sate his needs. He wants Kuroo to know that when Kuroo told him to masturbate with his jacket on because he wanted Oikawa to think of him while getting himself off, he listened, and he listened well.

He wants to tell Kuroo that he can count on his one hand the number of times anyone has ever both humiliated and turned him on like that, and how ashamed of himself he was the second after he spilled milky white all over his favorite bedspread, but it was so good in the moment that he didn't even care one bit.

He wants to tell Kuroo all of this and more, but mostly that that cockiness of his is definitely working in his favor this time. And that he’d love to take that _big ego_ of his and stroke it and suck it and ride it so good and so slow that Kuroo won’t even know what hit him.

But he doesn’t, much to both Oikawa’s relief and chagrin, though he can tell that it’s not because Kuroo has a shred of actual human decency to let the subject drop, but because they’re in public and that’s not the sort of talk any of their peers need to hear at nine in the morning on a Tuesday.

Kuroo just takes it from him wordlessly and tosses it over a chair before turning back to him.

“How’s the knee?” He asks casually, motioning with his head towards Oikawa’s leg.

“S’fine, I guess.”

Kuroo nods, though it seems like he’s only half-listening. There is an awkward pause between them, and purely to ease his slight discomfort at the sudden silence, Oikawa glances down at his watch, frowning when he realizes that his morning biology class starts in less than ten minutes.

“Shit,” He mutters with a click of his tongue, “I have to get to class.”

Kuroo gives a semi-sympathetic shrug, folding his arms across his bare chest. “That’s a bummer.”

Oikawa notices that Kuroo’s eyes are roaming up his body, lingering a little longer on _certain_ areas, and inwardly commends himself on his wardrobe choice; a tight-fitting cotton t-shirt that is a little bit sheer and hugs his toned torso like a second skin and black skinny jeans.

“Like what you see?” He taunts, unable to resist the opportunity of finally catching Kuroo up. But Kuroo only smirks coolly in response, raising his eyes at his utmost leisure, taking in every single detail of Oikawa’s upper body and face until their eyes finally meet again.

“Aren't you going to be late to class?” Kuroo questions roguishly, dropping his arms back down and stuffs a hand back into his pocket. In following the simple but strangely alluring motion, Oikawa catches  a better view of the tattoo on Kuroo’s hip, sitting cutely right above the grey band of his boxer briefs; several neat parallel lines forming a bar code. It’s a pretty cliched tattoo, but it looks cool on Kuroo.

His words are meant to be a dismissal, but his tone is relaying the total opposite message. Oikawa takes a step closer. “It’s all the way across campus, I’m going to be late anyway.”

Kuroo’s lips curl up into a small but inviting smile, one that makes a pulse of _want_ course through Oikawa’s entire body. He snags his bottom lip in his teeth as he edges closer, absolutely refusing to break eye contact. Kuroo returns his stare evenly and with just a hint of curious amusement, and it is very clear that he knows what Oikawa wants to do. And  he’s not going to stop him.

Oikawa exhales shakily and moves forward to close the gap between them, cupping Kuroo’s face and pressing their lips together smoothly. It’s not impulsive or impassioned, but it _is_ hot. Kuroo’s lips are soft and surprisingly pliant against his, parting slightly when Oikawa flicks his tongue against his bottom lip. To be honest, Oikawa is a little shocked by it. He had been expecting Kuroo to completely dominate the kiss, because he seems like the type to do so, but the other teen doesn’t move an inch.   

He pulls away after a moment to catch his breath, feeling his pulse racing so fast he can hear it. He is planning on leaving it at just that, but the second he opens his eyes and Kuroo’s face comes back into focus, and he notices how Kuroo’s cheeks are flushed _ever so slightly_ and the way he pants quietly when Oikawa pulls away, he decides that he’s going to indulge himself. Biology can wait, because biology _can’t_ wait.

 He leans in again, more aggressively this time, groaning softly against Kuroo’s still wonderfully yielding mouth, shifting his hand from Kuroo’s cheek into the dark, messy locks to angle Kuroo’s head, kissing him deeper. But just as he licks at Kuroo’s lip again, hoping to add a little tongue, Kuroo abruptly pulls away, grinning ferally, and grabs him by the hem of his shirt, pulling him inside his dorm room.

It’s so quick that Oikawa doesn’t even fully realize what just happened until he hears the door click shut behind him and Kuroo immediately backs him into it, though he doesn’t move to kiss him just yet.

Kuroo leans in, purring softly and nuzzles Oikawa’s nose with his own. “You are so fucking hot, Oikawa. You know that?” He murmurs against his cheek before sliding his lips down along the soft skin, peppering it with little kisses until he reaches Oikawa’s jawline, laving at the taut skin with a hot, skilled tongue. Oikawa just gasps, not trusting himself to form coherent words, and grabs at Kuroo’s shoulders, wanting him closer. Kuroo laughs against his neck and obliges him, pressing himself flush against Oikawa and rolling his hips against his. He can feel Kuroo’s growing erection pressing into the front of his pelvis, nearly nudging against his own and Oikawa shifts his hips so that they do, because he wants that friction. His head falls back against the door with a dull thud, a pleased grin bowing his lips at the breathy ‘fuck’ Kuroo growls into his neck before biting him hard at a sensitive spot just under his jaw.

 _This_ is more of what Oikawa was expecting.

Oikawa curses loudly but he doesn’t shove Kuroo away this time, even though that hurt like hell and he won’t be surprised if he’s bleeding. Kuroo’s teeth are sharp. The pain is gone as quickly as it comes, however, replaced by the much more pleasurable feeling of Kuroo working the love bite over thoroughly with soothing lips and a warm, indulging tongue.

“Mmm…” Oikawa sighs indolently, relishing in the attention. He’s going to have a huge bruise there later; clearly, that’s what Kuroo is aiming for, but he doesn’t care. Kuroo gives it another hard suck before moving back up to Oikawa’s mouth, licking over his lips with the tip of his tongue, from his chin to the tip of his nose, like a big cat. Despite how aroused he is, Oikawa laughs a little at the sensation Kuroo’s minty toothpaste, still fresh in his mouth, leaves on his nose and upper lip.

Kuroo just smirks against his lips and kisses him hard, this time with all of the want and alpha-male dominance and aggression that Oikawa was hoping for. Hard and deep with a lot of tongue is how Oikawa likes to be kissed, and Kuroo is not disappointing him in the slightest. He slides his tongue against Oikawa’s with experienced ease, coaxing it out to flick against his own. It’s sloppy, porn-ish, and way too hot. Oikawa feels like he could come just from the feeling of Kuroo’s tongue on his own alone. He pulls away briefly, panting hard, but Kuroo is relentless. He shifts with him, not leaving even a hair’s width of space between them and kisses Oikawa again, not as sloppily, but with more intent. He buries his hand in Oikawa’s hair and gives it a soft tug, angling his head to kiss him deeper.     

Oikawa trails his hand down between them, along Kuroo’s stomach and dips it into his underwear, palming his cock teasingly. Inwardly, he is pleased to know that Kuroo is not all talk. His cock is long and thick and impressively rigid in his hand and Oikawa moans low in his throat at the feeling, wanting nothing more in that moment than to push Kuroo against the door and get on his knees and take the whole thing in his mouth. He grips it firmly, moving his hand up and down the shaft in that torturously slow way he knows would drive a guy crazy, grinning when Kuroo breaks their kiss to pant hard against his lips, voice an octave or two higher than normal. “Do it harder.” Kuroo demands, groaning huskily against his mouth.

 Oikawa smirks and twists his hand over his cock, from the base to the tip, steadily increasing his pace until Kuroo’s eyes start to flutter and he’s panting quietly against Oikawa’s lips, kissing him roughly at random intervals. Oikawa pulls a little harder around the tip, running his thumb over the slit, not at all surprised when he feels the wetness of precum on his finger. Kuroo looks like he’s close.

“Do you want to come?”

He feels Kuroo smirk wickedly against his lips. “Are you gonna make me beg?”

“I dunno…I think I’m entitled to make you sweat a little, after what you did to me the other day.”

He passes his hand along the underside of Kuroo’s erection, down past the base to palm his balls.

“Alright then,” Kuroo pants, “If that’s the case, then go ahead. Make me beg for it.”

He pulls away from Oikawa slightly to look down between them, pressing his forehead against Oikawa’s. Oikawa looks at him curiously, but Kuroo just gives him a lusty grin. “I like to watch.”

Oikawa leans in and pecks him on the lips. “So do I.”

After that the room is silent for several minutes, save for Kuroo’s shallow breathes and occasional moans and the sound of Oikawa’s hand moving steadily over Kuroo’s cock, working him closer to his climax.

“You want it?” Oikawa asks teasingly when Kuroo’s breath hitches and he starts to fuck Oikawa’s hand, slowing his hand down to ghost along the shaft.

Kuroo swallows thickly, and nods. “Pl-please.” He pleads quietly, and Oikawa moans lowly at the sound of his voice. Kuroo’s an absolute mess and it’s _so fucking hot_.  This is a power-trip unlike any he’s ever experienced, and he  can’t help but be a little sadistic about it. “Say it again. A little lo-”

There is suddenly pounding on the door behind them, so loud and abrupt that they both shriek and jump completely apart. Oikawa moves away from the door and starts to smooth his hair and clothes out, snorting at the low, pissed off  ‘are you fucking kidding me Bokuto’ Kuroo mutters as he rushes to tuck his still painfully hard and as of now unsatisfied cock back into his pants, looking like he’s trying to think of all the most unarousing things imaginable to calm himself down.

“Kuroo! Yo, open the door, man! This stuff’s really freaking heavy!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” Kuroo snaps before looking down at himself. “Do I look normal?” He asks Oikawa, who just grimaces but nods. “As normal as you can look, I guess.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes and opens the door, stepping aside to let Bokuto in. “I forgot my keys.” Bokuto chimes as he drops all of the bags he’s holding onto the floor. Oikawa winces at the unmistakable sound of a glass cracking in one of the bags.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Kuroo mutters, folding his arms over his chest, looking the very picture of dissatisfaction and aggravation. But Bokuto is seemingly oblivious to both his friend’s pissy mood and to how hard he and Oikawa are still breathing, searching for something in one of the bags, giving a little ‘ha!’ when he pulls out a yakisoba bread.

“Hey fucker, where’s mine?”

 Bokuto shrugs, unwrapping it. “They only had one left, dude. Sorry.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrow. “Gimme it.”

“Wha? No! I want it.”

“Give it.”

“No! I waited in line for this!”

Kuroo’s eye begins to twitch and Oikawa wonders if maybe he should make a run for the door before body parts start flying. He knows exactly what it feels like to be seconds away from a mind-blowing orgasm only to be interrupted; though in his case, it was his mom barging in to give him his laundry.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo begins slowly, venomously, “I swear to God I will beat the shit out of you if you don’t give me that stupid fucking bread roll right now.”

 A beat passes before Bokuto tentatively holds it out to Kuroo, who snatches it and literally tears the plastic off before ramming a third of it into is mouth. He disappears silently into his bedroom, holding a finger up at Oikawa, signaling for him not to leave yet.

“Oh, Oikawa, what are you doing here?” Bokuto asks the second Kuroo leaves the room, no longer fazed in the slightest by Kuroo’s anger and apparently only just now noticing Oikawa for the first time since he arrived.

“I’m on my way to class. I was just returning the jacket Kuroo lent me the other day.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he let you borrow it.” Bokuto looks down at Oikawa’s leg, much like Kuroo did earlier. “How’s your leg? You look better.”

Oikawa nods. “Yes, it’s fine. I had to stay off of it for a couple days, but I’m good now. Thanks for your help the other day.”

Bokuto flashes him a million watt smile. “No sweat, man.”

Oikawa kind of can’t help but think then about just how close Kuroo and Bokuto are as friends. It seems like they've known each other for a long time, judging by Bokuto’s nonplussed reaction towards Kuroo’s mini tantrum. It’s hard not to wonder if they've ever been together as more than friends. And if they haven’t, then Kuroo’s restraint is truly inspiring, Oikawa thinks, because Bokuto is _really_ adorable.

“Oikawa, do you have your phone on you?” Kuroo’s voice precedes his reemergence from his bedroom. “Probably, why?” Oikawa calls back.

Kuroo comes out a second later, fully dressed and holding a black iPhone in his hand. “I wanna swap numbers.” He says and holds his phone out to Oikawa so he can enter his contact info.

 “My phone’s in my book-bag somewhere,” Oikawa says as he quickly taps his number into the phone, grinning as he jokingly puts an emoticon heart by his name, “So just text me and I’ll save your number.”

“Sure.”

* * *

“I appreciate you making an effort to show up, but please don’t stroll into my class halfway through, Oikawa-san.” His professor snaps at him the second he walks into the classroom. Everyone looks up from their notes, mostly out of reflex, though some girls giggle and wave at him. He waves back, before looking apologetically in his professor’s direction. “Sorry, my alarm didn't go off. It won’t happen again.”

The professor gives him a look before returning to a half-finished drawing of something on the whiteboard. Oikawa sighs in relief and takes a seat all the way in the back. He digs his notes and phone out of his bag, and smiles when he sees that Kuroo already messaged him. He saves the number to his contacts before opening the message.

**_That was the hottest hand job anyone’s ever given me jsyk_ **

Oikawa grins and texts back.

**_I know it was lol I give fucking amazing hand jobs_ **

Before he hits send, he thinks for a moment, and then boldly adds, **_not the only thing I’m amazing at either_**  and hits ‘send’ quickly before he loses his nerve and deletes it.

A distinct feeling of childish giddiness ripples through him when his phone blinks again a few minutes later.

**_Wow, and /I’m/ the one with the ego, you say. That’s cute._ **

His phone blinks again, signaling one more new message.

**_It would've been much more amazing if I had actually gotten to come, but hey. There’s always next time, right?_ **

Oikawa bites his lip.

**_Next time?_ **

He doesn’t even put his phone down; he just stares at the screen until a new message pops up and opens it immediately.

**_Of course. What, you don’t think I want to return the favor?_ **

Oikawa chews on the cap of his pen, debating for a bit before typing back.

**_How would you return the favor? I’m curious_ **

Kuroo doesn’t reply back for a long time, long enough that Oikawa thinks he might be ignoring his message, until the screen starts to blink and Oikawa finds himself scrambling embarrassingly to open the message.

**_Any way you want me to._ **

Oikawa feels his face growing very hot, as are other parts of his body. “Holy shit.” He pants to himself quietly, staring down at his phone.

_“Oikawa, is there something you want to share with the class?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: Blood Alcohol Levels


	4. Blood Alcohol Levels Part I: An Indelicate Reprieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry for the super slow update everybody. It's been a busy and sort of stressful month for me, but I'm finally done!!!  
> I have to say, I really, really appreciate all of your kind words and comments, both on here and on tumblr. I didn't think this fic would do as well as it's doing, and I'm honestly blown away by the love. You guys are awesome, and I look forward to your continued support!!  
> That being said, I made this chapter extra long for you guys <3  
> I didn't originally intend to break it up into two parts, but then it got crazy long, so...it is what it is. 
> 
> Also...if you think even for a second that I listened to Drunk In Love by Beyonce 700 times a day this entire month, you are absolutely correct. 
> 
> Also also, I am self-indulgent trash, please put me out with the garbage on garbage day. Thank you kindly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Haikyuu belongs to Haruichi Furudate. This fic was written solely to entertain.

Oikawa hates math. No, scratch that. He _loathes_ it. He despises it. As far as Oikawa is concerned, any word synonymous with hatred applies when mathematics is the topic of discussion.

And it’s not even because he’s bad at it, because he isn’t, not really.

He’s by no means amazing at it, but he’s managed well enough so far, though that’s not the conclusion most would come to after seeing the big red D- scribbled contemptuously at the top of his test, which his teacher had just handed back at the beginning of class. It was a difficult test though, and in the very least, he was one of the only _barely_ passing grades in the class. But getting one of three D’s in a sea of F’s is hardly any consolation in his mind; a shitty grade is a shitty grade, and the fact that _mostly_ everyone did worse than him isn’t going to change that.

In fact, it’s really just been one of those days; one of those crappy, off days in which everything that can go wrong inevitably will, and it’s not even eleven o’clock yet. First, he woke up late and missed his appointment with his advisor, an appointment that took hours of impatiently refreshing the time slot screen on the school website to book. Second, he nearly swallowed rubbing alcohol, thinking it was mouthwash, and almost accidentally poisoned himself. That, he realizes, is what he gets for being too lazy to actually brush his teeth that morning. Lesson learned. He’ll never skip it again, no matter how pearly white his teeth are.

It’s just been little annoyances throughout the morning, snowballing into one giant shit storm. So by the time he enters his mid-morning math class, his mood is already in the toilet when his professor hands him back his test, mumbling ‘not your best, Oikawa’ with fatherly disappointment that makes Oikawa want to rip his paper up in his teacher’s face, just to show him the amount of fucks he does not give.

He does do it, in his _head_ , and surprisingly, it makes him feel a smidgen better than he did before. Now he’s just cranky instead of royally pissed off. But it’s still way too early in the morning to divide his attention evenly between his professor’s monotonous droning and watching the career fair that is taking place on the campus courtyard directly outside the science building, so Oikawa doesn’t even bother to try.

He stops doodling checker patterns on his notepad and stifles a yawn. Tossing his pen aside, he digs his hand into his bag, searching for his phone, wondering if Iwa-chan finally replied to his message from the night before. Iwa-chan is the absolute worst at sending timely replies to text messages, or any sort of messages in general, but Oikawa assumes that his best friend had to have looked at his phone at _least_ once in the past twelve hours.

He unlocks the screen and smiles with lazy triumph when he sees that there is a new message waiting for him. But it’s not from Iwa-chan.

 _[1] New Message  from: Kuroo_ sits on his locked screen, dimmed innocuously, and Oikawa sits up straighter in his seat, curiosity immediately piqued.

He sneaks a glance at his professor, just to make sure he isn’t caught texting this time like the other day. Though he knows that he doesn’t really have anything to worry about this time around, because unlike his biology teacher, his math teacher is _not_ an evil sadistic bastard who threatens to read your private messages out in front of the class if he catches you texting, the fear is there regardless. Thankfully, the professor is busy scribbling away on the board, prattling on about some theorem that Oikawa is sure he’s going to forget the second he steps out the door anyway, so Oikawa deems it safe and opens the message.

**_Come over later._ **

At the moment, part of Oikawa -the presently pissy and totally _not_ in the mood for anything at _all_ part of him- frowns, both physically and mentally, at the arrogant tone embedded in those three little words. It reeks of a gross amount of self-assurance, and while Oikawa can’t deny that he likes that in itself, he still finds it a bit off-putting that Kuroo doesn’t even have the humility to ask him politely, instead of making demands. Just because Oikawa likes him doesn’t mean he can to talk him however he wants, like he has the utmost confidence that Oikawa will just come running at his beck and call.

But what really bugs Oikawa about it though is that he’s not wrong about that, either. Not entirely.

Kuroo still owes him that ‘favor’ from the other day, after all, and Oikawa hopes this is him saying that he’s in the mood to make good on that. Some hot, rough sex is definitely what he needs to lift his mood, and he has no doubt in his mind that Kuroo is just the person to take care of that for him. And that, he tells himself, is the only reason he doesn’t bite Kuroo’s head off for his lack of manners.

**_When?_ **

Kuroo texts him back less than ten minutes later.

**_Whenever you want. But come soon. I’m lonely._ **

Oikawa drums his fingers on his desk, thinking.

**_Fine. I’ve got classes throughout the day until around five. I’ll come by after that. Is that alright?_ **

Kuroo texts him back a few minutes later.

**_Yeah, that’s cool. See ya then._ **

* * *

When he finally arrives at Kuroo’s dorm a few hours later, Kuroo is already waiting for him, leaning against his door, grinning.

“It’s about time,”He says as he peels himself off the wall and stands to his full height, hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts. “How many freaking classes do you have in one day?”

“Four,” Oikawa says curtly as he shoves Kuroo backwards into his dorm and kicks the door shut behind them. “And then I have my other two tomorrow.”

Kuroo looks pleasantly surprised at the aggression in Oikawa’s movements, especially when Oikawa pushes him up against the back of the door, much like Kuroo did the other day to him, and kisses him roughly. They pull apart after a few seconds, breathing hard.

“Wound up a little tight today, aren’t you?” Kuroo says, still smiling. Oikawa ignores him, in favor of pointing something _else_ out.

“You taste like vodka.”

“Yeah. Because I was just _drinking_ vodka.”

 “You know, if the R.A. catches you with booze in your room, you’ll get in a lot of trouble.”

“Is the R.A. here right now?”

Oikawa starts. “No…?”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Well no, but-”

Kuroo grins. “Then don’t worry about it, because it sounds like you need a drink too, anyways.” He says as he takes hold of Oikawa’s wrist and leads him in the direction of his bedroom.

“What makes you say that?”

Kuroo looks back at him. “I dunno, something in your tone, you seem upset. I got that feeling this morning too. Like I caught you at a bad time.”

Internally, Oikawa is impressed by how perceptive Kuroo is. He didn’t think it was that obvious, but he guesses from the way he shoved Kuroo into his own room, like he owned the place, it’s not hard to see that he’s in a shit mood.

“I…” Oikawa sighs. “It’s been a rough day.”

Kuroo’s face softens. “Yeah, same here. What happened to you?”

“Just a lot of stupid stuff all in a row. It’s been one of those days. But the main thing was failing my math test.”

Kuroo pouts his bottom lip out. “Aww, poor baby got a bad grade on his test.” He croons, which earns him a sound punch in the arm from Oikawa.

“Fuck off. I studied really hard for that test. Of course I’m going to be upset.”

Kuroo laughs. “Sorry, I’m just kidding. That sucks.”

“What happened to you?”

Kuroo stops walking for a second and looks back at him, his expression aggrieved. “I got a speeding ticket the other day.”

“You have a car?”

“Yeah. A very nice car, which I love very much. One that I might get taken away from me now because of that fucking ticket.”

Oikawa frowns. “Why would it get taken away from you? That seems a little excessive for a ticket, if you ask me.”

Kuroo lets go of his wrist. With a great sigh, the dark-haired teen leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I wish I could say I agreed with you, but I’d take that over spending the night in jail any day.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen at that. “Jail? How fast were you driving?”

Kuroo scratches at his cheek. “Very, very, fast,” He says before lowering his voice to almost a whisper, “Like… _drag-racing_ fast.”

“…So you were drag-racing, basically.”

“Uh, yep.”

“I didn’t know you could get arrested for that.”

“Me neither, until now. And apparently, they can take your license away too.”

“That sucks.”

 “Yes. Yes it does. And the only reason I _didn’t_ get arrested was because the cop that pulled me over used to work with my dad. But there was no way in hell I was getting out of a ticket, though he did tell me he wouldn’t mention it to my dad, since I’m 18.”

“How much is the ticket for?”

Kuroo grimaces.  “A lot.”

Oikawa can’t help but press. “How much is _a lot_?”

“Way more than I can afford just waiting tables. I might have to take out an ad in some classifieds, if you know what I mean. But that’s not even the worst part.”

 “How much worse could that get?”

“My parents still found out.” Kuroo laughs piteously as he pushes himself off the wall, motioning for Oikawa to follow. “So, okay. You know how when you get a ticket, lawyers start sending you shit in the mail to represent you in court and all that?”

Oikawa nods slowly. “Uh-huh.”

Kuroo sighs exasperatedly. “Well, they didn’t send it to my school address. They sent it to my _house_. You know, where my _parents_ live.”

In the back of his mind, Oikawa remembers the first day of orientation, more specifically the seemingly never-ending argument between Kuroo and his mother, and winces. He was wondering why Kuroo was drinking alone in his room in the middle of the afternoon, but now he kind of gets it.

“My mom called me this morning, woke me up out of a dead sleep, shrieking like a fucking banshee about all the traffic school crap she found in the mail, demanding to know what I did. I swear to God I could hear the steam coming out of her ears when I explained what happened.”

Kuroo drags a hand over his face. “Ugh,” He groans, “My ears are _still_ ringing.”

Oikawa grimaces. “That bad?”

“She’s very shrill.”

Kuroo bumps his bedroom door open with his hip and walks inside, Oikawa in tow. It’s pitch black in Kuroo’s room, save for the glow from the screen of the TV sitting on a low standing drawer placed kitty corner to his bed. As Oikawa looks around, taking in the dark squares and rectangles on the walls which he assumes to be posters, as well as the dark material spread out messily over Kuroo’s bed, he gets the distinct impression that Kuroo’s room would probably look the same even if the black-out drape hanging over his window was pulled back. It’s the total opposite of his room, which is all sunshine and light, cool tones.

Like a devil and an angel, almost. _Almost_. Because Oikawa knows better than anyone that he is definitely no saint.

“What kind of car do you have?”Oikawa asks, purely out of curiosity.

“A 350-Z.” Kuroo replies, flicking the light on. His lamp light is very dim, like it’s about to burn out soon, but Oikawa finds that it adds an element of ambiance to the moderately chaotic clutter in Kuroo’s room.

“Oh, nice. That’s a sports car, right? A two-seater?”

Kuroo nods, perking up a little. “Yeah. It was actually my dad’s before, but he didn’t like it. Can you believe that? He’s such an old fart. He got a new car once he got promoted at work anyway, but I still had to do some major begging and persuading to get him to finally agree to sign it over to me instead of giving it back to the dealer. I mean, it’s not like it was crazy expensive or anything. It was doable, so eventually he gave in after we came to an arrangement.”

“Let me guess,” Oikawa smarts, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s black.”

Kuroo clicks his tongue. “ _No,”_ He begins, tone a little petulant, Oikawa notices with no small amount of amusement, “Actually, it’s grey. Why does everyone assume that it’s black?”

“I dunno…it fits you.”

 “I guess.” Kuroo says, shrugging, “The interior and rims are black, though.” He adds as an afterthought, which makes Oikawa laugh. “Called it.”

Kuroo frowns, eyebrows drawing together. “And now I might get it taken away, depending on how royally ticked my dad is. And my mom certainly won’t be helping things. I can imagine how _that_ conversation went. ‘I told you not to let him keep that goddamn car!’” Kuroo mimics nasally, “’I told you, didn’t I?’”

“Have you spoken to your dad yet?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “Nope. He’s been out of town, according to my mom, but he gets back on Monday. Ugh, I don’t even want to think about it anymore. I’ve already accepted that my father is going to come to the school and murder me come Monday, so I… yeah, whatever. I just want to be drunk right now. I don’t give a shit that it’s still daylight outside.”

He knows it’s not much comfort, but Oikawa walks forward, right behind Kuroo, and presses a kiss to his neck, just under his ear, suddenly feeling very silly for complaining about one bad grade. Kuroo looks back at him and smiles. “Sorry,” He says, “I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. I’ve had a couple of glasses already, so I’m a little buzzed. I get kinda wordy when I drink.”

He moves closer to Oikawa, cupping his face in both hands, and kisses him. “You know what you’re here for,” He murmurs against his lips, “And it’s _not_ to hear me bitch about my problems.”

Part of Oikawa is inclined to agree with that; he’s here to get fucked until he can’t walk, because he decided the second Kuroo messaged him that that was the only thing that would turn his day around, _not_ play family therapist. Even so…

“I don’t mind.” Oikawa says, and he genuinely means that. Kuroo is hot as hell, that much is true. But Oikawa is not _that_ shallow. There’s a sense of intrigue that fuels this little crush he has on the dark-haired teen standing in front of him just as much as his physical attraction to him; a burning curiosity and need to get to know him better. And admittedly, he’s been the most curious about Kuroo’s family life ever since seeing him and his parents and their awkward parting their first day in the dorms. But before he gets the chance to say so, Kuroo pulls away, reaching for a half-empty glass sitting on his nightstand. He knocks it back smoothly and exhales.

He holds up a bottle. “Want some?”

Oikawa laughs quietly, shrugging. “Yeah, why not.”

“I don’t feel like finding another glass, so just use this one.” Kuroo says, pouring it until it’s more than half-filled. “I promise I don’t have cooties or anything.”

“I would hope not.”

Oikawa accepts the straight vodka, and as he swishes the clear liquid around in the glass, he can’t help but wonder if this is something that Kuroo does often, or if it’s purely to blow off steam because he’s having a shitty day, too. He takes a meek sip, and then downs the rest in one go.

“Nice,” Kuroo says, impressed, nodding his approval as he pours him another glass. Oikawa takes in the sheer amount of liquid Kuroo pours into his cup, laughing incredulously.

“Are you _trying_ to get me drunk?”

Kuroo chuckles. “Nothing you don’t want, I swear. But I’d rather not drink alone, if it’s all the same to you.”

Oikawa shakes his head and takes a long sip. “I wouldn’t have accepted if I didn’t want it. I need this just as bad as you do, to be honest.”

Oikawa hopes that Kuroo understands what he means by ‘this.’ He needs _this,_ as in, the entire _situation_ , not just the drink in his hand.

“And just so we’re clear,” Kuroo says as he flops down on his bed, hard enough to knock his headboard against the wall, “I’m _not_ an alcoholic or anything. I only drink like this when I’m stressed out, and that’s not very often, I can assure you.”

Internally, Oikawa gives a little sigh of relief. _Good._

From the look Kuroo gives him, he gets the feeling that his thoughts are very clear on his face, even moreso when Kuroo’s lips curl at one corner, leering at him. “You were really worried about that, weren’t you?”

“Sort of.”

“Well, rest easy, then.” Kuroo says, shifting on the bed, making it hit into the wall again.

Oikawa gives him a look. “You know, if you pull it _away_ from the wall, it won’t do that.”

Kuroo laughs, a heady and alluring sound that floats through the room. “I know that. But I like that sound. It’s very…satisfying.” 

Oikawa cocks his head in confusion, not quite understanding what Kuroo means by that, until Kuroo places one of his legs on the ground for leverage and starts rocking his hips in a _very_ familiar rhythm against the bed. It starts hitting the wall with dull, cadenced thuds and in seconds, Oikawa feels the blood rush out of his heart and straight to his cheeks. _And_ to his cock.

“…O-oh…” He stutters, swallowing.

“I _especially_ like it when…” Kuroo trails off and starts moving faster, until the headboard is bouncing against the wall loudly and wildly. “Heh, those last few frenzied seconds are the best.”

Kuroo stops moving and laughs. “I stroke my own ego way too much.” He says, not sounding the least bit apologetic about it.

 “You’re so hot, Kuroo.”

Oikawa doesn’t mean to say it out loud, really he doesn’t. But it’s just something about the atmosphere in the room; the tension between the two of them, so heavy with lust, that totally disables his mental filters. It’s not just the vodka in his hand. He’s not embarrassed that he said it though; in fact, he rather likes the way Kuroo leans back on his elbows, looking entirely too smug as he grins up at Oikawa, like that’s not news to him. It probably isn’t. Kuroo is very aware of his appeal.

But what Oikawa doesn’t expect is the quiet, hedonistic ‘so are you’ that Kuroo drops, barely above a whisper, from between teeth biting at his bottom lip.

Oikawa feels his heart start to race a little faster than before, feeling nothing but anticipation and the buzz the alcohol delivers through his system, making him feel warm under his sweater. He knocks back the remainder of his drink before walking over to Kuroo, setting the cup loudly and pointedly on the nightstand next to them, in silent demand; a demand Kuroo is all too willing to acknowledge. He smirks and sits up straighter, grabbing the bottle of vodka. He refills the cup, right back to the very top, all the while watching as Oikawa quickly sheds his sweater, letting it fall out of his grip and onto the floor.

“Come here.” Kuroo beckons softly when Oikawa looks back up at him, setting the bottle down and crooking a finger in Oikawa’s direction. Oikawa moves in closer and Kuroo reaches up to grab his hips, bringing him in closer until one of Oikawa’s knees bumps the edge of the mattress between Kuroo’s legs. He pulls the other up to rest against the outside of his thigh up on the bed, forcing Oikawa to half-straddle him.

He presses his face into Oikawa’s abdomen, nuzzling it with his nose before placing a kiss against his hip. Oikawa lets out a small noise at the pleasant feeling, burying a hand in Kuroo’s hair. The other reaches for the glass still sitting on the nightstand. He downs a fair amount of it in one big gulp, relishing the smooth burn of the vodka traveling down his throat. The room is slowly beginning to spin, both from the alcohol and the feeling of Kuroo’s hand traveling up his shirt, brushing his fingers over his naked skin. His touch is so feather light that it makes Oikawa shudder breathlessly and press himself more into Kuroo, craving more of it. Standing over him like this feels almost too intimate in a way; with his hand in Kuroo’s hair, twirling and playing with the surprisingly silky locks between his fingers encouragingly as Kuroo pushes his shirt up, kissing and occasionally nipping at the bare, taut skin underneath, it doesn’t feel at all like two slightly intoxicated teens who barely know each other about to fuck. There’s a sense of familiarity, a sense of comfort, and Oikawa isn’t sure if it’s entirely because of the alcohol.

Whatever it is, it’s nice.  

Kuroo flicks his tongue over his bellybutton and it makes Oikawa jump and gasp loudly, pulling him out of his head and back into the present. Kuroo does it again, trailing the tip of his tongue around the outside of his bellybutton before dipping his tongue in teasingly.

“…Kuroo…” Oikawa breathes his name out, barely containing it. Kuroo chuckles against his stomach. The sound reverberates up his core with a warmth that makes him shiver. His fingers curl a bit tighter in Kuroo’s hair.

“A little sensitive, hm?”Kuroo asks, kissing and dragging his teeth up the crease of Oikawa’s abs, pushing his t-shirt up higher. Oikawa nods and pulls away for second, taking the hem of his shirt in his hands, quickly tugging it up and over his head. He tosses it on the floor on top of his sweater. He can’t contain the prideful smirk that spreads across his face as he watches the way Kuroo’s eyes roam up and down his naked torso, his tongue poking out at the side of his mouth, wetting his lips appreciatively.

He can’t resist. “Nice, huh?”

Kuroo’s gaze moves upward quickly, locking eyes with Oikawa.

“ _Very_ nice,” He says after a moment, laughing, and motions for Oikawa to come back to him. Oikawa leans back over him, wrapping his hands around Kuroo’s neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying the little sounds Kuroo makes every time he tugs at it.

Kuroo shifts one of his hands from where it is gripping the back of Oikawa’s thigh to his belt buckle. He unfastens it with no real sense of urgency, tugging it off and through his belt loops thoughtfully before tossing it on the growing pile of Oikawa’s clothes. It’s an imbalance that Oikawa quickly notices.

He tugs at one of Kuroo’s shirt sleeves, pouting slightly. “Off.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything in response; he just nods, amused, understanding what Oikawa wants. Oikawa helps him out of his shirt once Kuroo has it up over his head, tossing it on the bed behind them before leaning down to kiss Kuroo; a quick, messy swivel of tongues, lips, and teeth. Kuroo moans into the kiss, reaching up to palm at the prominent bulge in Oikawa’s jeans at the same time.The sudden feeling of a hand on his crotch catches Oikawa off guard for a second and he gasps, a little louder than he would’ve like, against Kuroo’s mouth, but thankfully, the dark-haired teen doesn’t tease him about it or even acknowledge it, for that matter.

Kuroo pushes him away, forcing him to stand back up in front of him.

“I wanna suck you off.” Kuroo murmurs against his stomach, kissing at the skin just above the top of his jeans before looking up at him. “Do you want me to?” He asks, rubbing and fondling Oikawa’s erection.

 Oikawa just nods slowly, the ability to articulate words temporarily leaving him. He can imagine how he looks right about now, standing over Kuroo looking positively _needy_ , but Kuroo is _so_ good with his hands.

Kuroo looks pleased. “Good.” He says and takes the now half-empty glass sitting on the nightstand between them. He downs the rest of it. It’s then that Oikawa notices the slight dust of pink around Kuroo’s cheeks, both from arousal and inebriation; one that he’s sure is mirrored on his own face.

Kuroo shifts back against the bed to give himself enough space. Once he settles, his gaze falls on the bulge of Oikawa’s cock. He stares at it for few seconds, contemplating it, before eventually reaching for the button and zipper of Oikawa’s jeans. He takes his sweet time pulling them down, grinning teasingly at the whimper Oikawa lets out when the hard fabric brushes roughly over his erection.

“Whoops.”

“Ass-asshole,” Oikawa stutters as he steps out of his sneakers and jeans and kicks everything aside, gripping Kuroo’s shoulder tightly. Kuroo laughs, muted and lighthearted, and Oikawa has half a mind to smack him for that, until Kuroo slides his hand up his thigh and into his briefs and grips his cock at the base, pumping it slowly with firm, practiced strokes, and effectively erases any coherent thoughts from his mind other than _Whoa._

He’s jerked himself off in his underwear plenty of times; the way the soft fabric brushes and pulls against his cock feels incredible even on the most regular of days. But right now, with a fair amount of vodka in his system and Kuroo sitting in front of him, breathing just as shallow as his as he starts to jerk him off faster, the sensation has Oikawa panting hard and his eyes fluttering.

“K-kuroo…” He mumbles on a breath.

Kuroo looks up at him for a second, smiling, before leaning forward, taking the head of Oikawa’s cock in his mouth over the thin fabric of his briefs and giving it one hard, experimental suck. Oikawa lets out a strangled noise, his grip in Kuroo’s hair immediately tightening.

“Like that?” Kuroo asks with a smooth chuckle. His mouth is so close, _so deliciously close_ , that his breath ghosts over the dampened fabric around the head of his cock as he talks and Oikawa can’t suppress the shudder that it sends through his body. Kuroo grips his cock steady and starts to suck on the head, moving his mouth back and forth over it, gradually taking it in deeper, as far as the stretched cotton will allow. At the same time, he gives Oikawa’s ass a firm squeeze, which makes Oikawa’s breath hitch.

Kuroo groans, moving his mouth delicately, purposefully, until most of the white cotton stretched tightly over Oikawa’s cock is wet and transparent with saliva. Oikawa moans at the sight, staring down between them at both his fully hard cock, straining against his underwear, and Kuroo wiping a bit of spit from the corner of his mouth. He bucks his dick against Kuroo’s lip, silently begging him to keep going.

Kuroo isn’t as quick to oblige him this time, however.

“Relax,”He says, teasing his thumb over the slit of Oikawa cock, “We’ve got all day.”

Through the lust-laden fog clouding his mind, a sudden question pops up. “Where’s Bokuto?”

He’s not in the mood to be interrupted, and he _knows_ Kuroo isn’t either.

Kuroo rubs the back of his thigh and kisses along the underside of his cock, moving towards the tip. “Don’t worry about him,” He says breathily, “He’s on the other side of Tokyo until Sunday night.”

The sensation of his warm breath against the flushed skin makes Oikawa whimper and push against Kuroo’s lips. Thankfully, Kuroo relents. He hooks his fingers in the sides of Oikawa’s briefs and tugs them down and they land almost noiselessly on the floor.

Oikawa is suddenly very aware of just how naked and aroused his is; his cock is engorged and red from the tip down the first few inches, jutting straight up. He’s also aware of how tightly Kuroo is gripping his own half-hard cock, which is very noticeable through his white basketball shorts, stroking himself to a full erection. Oikawa leans down and pushes Kuroo’s hand off himself.

“Focus on me.” He commands, grabbing Kuroo’s head and pushing his dick against his lips.

 Kuroo pinches his ass, making Oikawa yelp. “Don’t tell me what to do,” He says firmly, though there’s a trace of amusement in his tone as well at Oikawa’s attempt to set the pace. He grips Oikawa’s hips tightly and pulls him close. “You’re not the one in control right now,” He voices, hot and heavy and authoritative, looking Oikawa square in the eye, “ _I_ am.”

Oikawa can’t find it in himself to argue with that, his mind spinning with vodka and arousal. He feels like he could come from the look on Kuroo’s face and the clear command in his voice alone. He moans and nods fervently, forcing himself to relax until Kuroo decides to keep going.

Kuroo chuckles, shaking his head. “Heh, see? You’re such a _brat_.” He mutters, laughing to himself as he leans down to drag his tongue up the underside of Oikawa’s cock, along a prominent vein, up and over the slit at the tip. He swirls his tongue expertly around the tip before taking more of Oikawa in his mouth and starts moving at a faster, more pleasurable pace, using his hand to work and indulge every inch of him.  

Oikawa moans a little louder than before, head lulling back. “…Ah…Kuroo…” He pants, eyes fluttering shut. The room is filled with the sounds of cursing and gunshots from the movie left on and forgotten behind them, in competition with the wet sounds Kuroo’s mouth makes as he sucks Oikawa off. He hollows his cheeks and moves up the shaft slowly -torturously slow- until he pulls off the head with a wet, exaggerated ‘pop’.

“Come here,” He says quickly, pulling Oikawa down onto the bed beside him, “lay down.” Oikawa allows himself to be guided and positioned to Kuroo’s liking, chewing his lip, feeling anxious and excited. Kuroo takes a second to pour up another way too full glass of vodka, and drinks a good third of it in one gulp. As he does, Oikawa leans up to kiss his collarbone, alternately biting at the inviting flesh and sucking at it, until little blood speckles start to form right underneath the skin. The beginnings of a nice, tell-tale bruise. Oikawa smirks against his skin, pleased when he hears Kuroo groan into the rim of his cup, spilling a little on himself.

“Goddammit,” Kuroo curses to himself as he wipes his chest off with his hand.

“He’s beauty, he’s grace…” Oikawa trails off, snorting as he falls back against Kuroo’s bed. The second his head falls down onto Kuroo’ pillow, the other teen stretches out on top of him, attacking his neck and chest with rough, hot kisses.

“Oh, shut up,” Kuroo says between kisses, looking up at him, though it’s clear he thought it was hilarious, too. Oikawa’s laughter dies down after a couple of seconds, gradually morphing into soft moans and pitchy whimpers when Kuroo starts on the bruise he left on his neck the last time they made out, grazing it hard with his teeth. Little by little, he makes his way down Oikawa’s neck, leaving a trail of hot, splotchy hickeys that are most certainly going to bruise noticeably. But Oikawa is more than okay with that, because the dichotomy between the softness of Kuroo’s lips and tongue and the sharp edges of his teeth against each singular bite is breathtakingly erotic, as is the way Kuroo’s back, strong and defined, just like the rest of his body, bows as he leans over him, bracing himself up over Oikawa with his forearm.

From his current angle, Oikawa has the perfect view of the smooth expanse of taut skin, of the muscles in Kuroo’s arms and shoulders flexing and contracting in tandem with even the slightest movement.

Fantasies and daydreams are nice, Oikawa thinks, but there’s no way in _hell_ they can compare to the real thing.

Oikawa nudges Kuroo in the hip with his knee, pushing him up with his hands on his chest until Kuroo’s sitting up between his legs.

“Take these off,” Oikawa says, thoughtful and wanting as he tugs at the band of Kuroo’s shorts, “I want to touch you.” He sits up on his elbows and leans forward to stroke Kuroo’s fully hard cock through the loose material, smirking up at the dark-haired teen when his breath catches in his throat. For a second, it seems he’s going to, but then he bats Oikawa’s hand away from his crotch and shakes his head no, leaving Oikawa confused.

He leans back down, resting on his elbows over Oikawa’s stomach.“Weren’t you the one who just said you wanted me to focus on you?” Kuroo says, taunting him. Oikawa pouts and settles back, wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth. Kuroo begins to plant a trail of lazy and wet open-mouthed kisses down Oikawa’s stomach, back down towards his cock.“Don’t worry about me just yet. I’ll get _mine_ after you get _yours_.”

Oikawa makes a noise of approval. He _really_ likes the sound of that.

He watches, brows furrowed, as Kuroo starts to suck on his middle and ring finger, making a show out of coating them heavily with spit, making lewd wet noises with his mouth and lips that make Oikawa pant and his cock pulse. Oikawa licks his lips, anticipating, never once breaking eye contact with him. He wants so badly for Kuroo to lean up and shove his fingers into his mouth, because he’d love to help.

But he doesn’t.

Kuroo sucks off his own fingers until they’re shiny and slick with spit, and when he decides they’re wet enough, Kuroo spreads Oikawa’s legs open a little wider, and reaches down to tease his hole, circling it with his moistened middle finger a few times before slowly pushing it inside. Oikawa takes a sharp breath, fisting Kuroo’s pillowcase in his grip behind him.

Kuroo pulls his finger all the way out before dipping back in, pulling back out slowly a second later. He repeats the process, gradually setting an easy, metered pace to get Oikawa used to the feeling, looking pleased when Oikawa eventually starts to relax and move with him, moaning lowly.

 After a few minutes, Kuroo pulls his finger out and spits onto them, wetting them again, before plunging both fingers inside Oikawa, right down to the base where his fingers connect to his hand.

“F-fuck, Kuroo…” Oikawa cries out, back arching as he instinctively starts to fuck himself on Kuroo’s fingers again, rocking and grinding against Kuroo’s hand desperately until Kuroo anchors his hips down onto the bed with a firm hand, steadying him.

“Relax, baby,” Kuroo’s voice floats into his ear, amused and heady and unbearably arousing, “I’ll get you there.”

He starts to curl his two fingers inside him, thrusting them in at different speeds and angles until Oikawa tenses with a guttural, high-pitched groan, mouth falling open wantonly.

Kuroo hisses, chuckling to himself.“Mm… _there_ it is.”He says, looking maddeningly smug and so fucking _hot_ as he starts to drive his fingers right up against Oikawa’s prostate.

“God, Kuroo,” Oikawa moans, gripping Kuroo’s pillowcase tighter, not having the mental capacity to care or even acknowledge how loud he’s being. He knows exactly how he looks right now; flushed and desperate and aching for the orgasm he knows is close. He can feel the tight strain at the tip of his cock, along with the distinct moist feeling of precum beading at the slit. He bucks against Kuroo.

“Please?” He pants, begging for release.

Kuroo grins down at him, licking his lips. “You’re a mess.” He says, breathing hard, “It’s so cute.”

He leans down and takes the head of Oikawa’s cock in his mouth again, teasing it with his lips and the tip of his tongue, flicking over the ridge like a cat lapping at a bowl of cream. He trails his gaze up to lock eyes with Oikawa, smirking as he licks the pearlescent bead of precum off with the flat of his tongue before taking the whole thing in his mouth, tip to shaft, bobbing his mouth at a pace that speaks of plenty of practice and know-how. 

Oikawa’s head falls back down against Kuroo’s pillow, eyes rolling back at the feeling of Kuroo simultaneously sucking his dick and curling his fingers inside him, brushing against his prostate. He can feel his orgasm quickly beginning to mount, warming his body and fogging his mind. He buries a hand in Kuroo’s hair, guiding his mouth down further onto his cock. Kuroo doesn’t protest, instead angling his head to take it in deeper until it glides down past the back of his throat.

Kuroo shifts his hand from Oikawa’s hip down to fondle his balls gently as he deep-throats him, humming and moaning softly along the shaft, cheeks tight and hollowed.

Amidst his occasional moans and unintelligible but encouraging rambling, Oikawa vaguely hears himself groan ‘I’m gonna come’ as he rocks his hips against Kuroo’s face, to which Kuroo looks up at him, smirking devilishly as he pulls off his cock to lick up the side slowly, like he _knows_ that already.

His orgasm hits him almost immediately after that, so sudden and intense that it makes his eyes roll back and his toes curl. Oikawa wrenches his eyes together tightly as he comes in thick spurts into Kuroo’s mouth, panting hard and loud as the pleasurable waves ebb through him, coursing up his body, warm and electric, making him moan and shudder.

“Shit…” He groans, riding out the waves for a few more seconds before he finally settles back against Kuroo’s bed, chest and stomach slick with sweat and little droplets of semen. His gaze eventually travels downward, to where Kuroo is still sucking languidly on his cock, now hypersensitive from stimulation, pumping it slowly and licking off the last drops that dribble out.

They lie there for a while, Oikawa basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, running his fingers through Kuroo’s hair as he cleans him off.

It’s when Kuroo finally sits up with a tired groan and clambers up the bed to lie on his stomach beside him that Oikawa graduates back to articulate speech patterns.

“Now _that’s_ how you return a favor.” He says, laughing tiredly as he slings an arm over his eyes. “How am I supposed to compete with that?”

He turns his head to look at Kuroo from underneath his forearm after a moment, only to find that Kuroo is already staring back, and has been for awhile, from the looks of it. His eyes are still glazed over with lust, penetrating and searching as they scan over Oikawa’s face. Oikawa can’t quite tell what he’s thinking; he only knows that it’s definitely something dirty, because Kuroo moans low in his throat and bites at his lip.

“What is it?” Oikawa asks, turning on his side to face Kuroo. Kuroo's eyes trail down his body, lingering a little longer on his now soft cock before he turns to look Oikawa in the eye. He leans over, cupping his cheek, and kisses him. Oikawa can taste himself in Kuroo’s mouth; it’s a taste he can’t quite describe, but he likes it, and kisses Kuroo deeper, wanting to taste more of it.

Kuroo pulls away after a while, breathing uneven.

“You know what I want right now?”

“Hm?”

Kuroo points towards the bottle of vodka, still sitting half-full on his nightstand.

“I want to empty that bottle.”

Kuroo grins. “And _then_ I want to ride you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing oral sex scenes. Like, a lot. You guys don't even know. 
> 
> I'm currently working on a playlist to go along with this story, and I want to commission an artist to draw an oikuro cover for it. It won't be up for a while, but if you're interested, message me on tumblr [kurootetsurouvevo] and we'll talk art business and probably oikuro because why the fuck not.
> 
> Sidenote: If you've never seen a Nissan 350z, I suggest googling it, because I can't see Kuroo in any other car. They're fast and cute and I kind of want one now too.
> 
> Up next: Blood Alcohol Levels Part 2: Spin the Hours


	5. Blood Alcohol Levels Part II: Spin the Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: 
> 
> “You know what I want right now?”  
> “Hm?”  
> Kuroo points towards the bottle of vodka, still sitting half-full on his nightstand.  
> “I want to empty that bottle.”  
> Kuroo grins. “And then I want to ride you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah...so I'm sure some of you lovely people are ready to pelt me with sizable objects, like perhaps my literal laptop. You may, just nothing sharp. 
> 
> I'm sorry it takes me so fucking long to update, really I am. The holidays are the worst time of the year for me, financially, emotionally, creatively, etc. It's an all around bummer. It's not like I can usually promise consistent updates, because I have a lousy track record when it comes to multi-chapter fics, but this fic is actually really important to me and I don't intend to abandon it. So if it takes me some time, don't be concerned. 'Kay?
> 
> Chapter 6 is already in progress, however, so I can say with confidence that it won't be two months before another update.
> 
> Writer's block is a bitch, but after much blood, sweat, and tears (mostly tears), here's the second part for you all. Enjoy :D
> 
> Disclaimer: Haikyuu belongs to Haruichi Furudate. This fic was written solely to entertain.

 

 

 

It seems…darker, somehow.

Even with the light from the lamp on Kuroo’s nightstand, burlesque and dim under the lampshade illuminating the small room, Oikawa doesn’t have to push back the black-out drape to know that the sun’s gone down and it’s night out.

He feels warm.

There is a strange, heavy feeling that permeates the entire dorm room; a liquor-born miasma that’s hanging over them, clouding judgment and senses and swallowing time. It’s like the steam in a sauna or a hot spring; soothing, disarming, and it makes you dizzy and starts to weigh your limbs down after a while. The tension of it could very well crush him if he allowed it to, so enveloped in it as he is. Alcohol has a way of casting these sorts of spells and trances over people.

It doesn’t feel like they’ve been lying here for hours, drinking themselves into a stupor, but they have; the fact that it’s no longer light out is proof enough. Oikawa is still having trouble trying to figure out where all that time went, but thinking too hard about anything other than the warm body pressed right up against his back makes his head hurt, so he stops. They’re hanging together in a vacuum, isolated from the world that waits just outside Kuroo’s bedroom door. In this space, it feels like everything is moving both too fast and at a negative speed.

Outside, the sound of a car system blasting as it passes by the campus makes the window of Kuroo’s room vibrate for a few seconds. He can feel it ripple through his body, but it sounds like a buzzing in the distance. It fades gradually, leaving only a more pronounced silence in its wake.

Even lying horizontal, it feels like he’s free-falling. And yet at the same time, he feels suspended, by what exactly, he can’t say. Such extremes fighting for control in his body, it’s a feeling that is impossible to describe. The only thing he truly knows is that his head is spinning and it’s making him kind of nauseous. He shifts to lie down on his back instead of his side, but even that has him nearly seeing doubles. Oikawa slings his arm over his eyes, groaning softly. He drank way more than he should have.

Suddenly, he feels Kuroo press his lips to his shoulder in a lethargic kiss. He hadn’t even realized that Kuroo was awake. He’s been so quiet in the past hour or so, Oikawa had assumed the liquor had put him right to sleep.

“Hey,” He calls softly, his hand against Oikawa’s stomach, shaking him gently, “You still with me?”

His voice is nothing but a whisper, but his hand feels like a torch running down Oikawa’s body and every spot that their bodies connect feels like a hot coal on his skin. Oikawa drops his arm back down to his side and turns his head, facing Kuroo.

“Uh-huh.” He declares after a few seconds of trying to blink Kuroo’s features into focus.

Kuroo’s sitting up on his elbow with his head propped up in his hand, looking down at him, his eyes aglow with an intrigue that Oikawa can’t help but find himself both unnerved and mesmerized by. Though he’s undoubtedly as drunk as Oikawa is, if not drunker, his eyes appear sharper, more focused. Even half-lidded with lust and inebriation, Kuroo’s eyes seem to follow any and every movement Oikawa makes with a languid attentiveness that borders on predatory. It’s like lying next to a panther or a lion that’s trying to decide whether or not to eat him. Kuroo really is remarkably catlike in general, Oikawa thinks to himself. There’s an elegance to him that Oikawa can only describe as feline; he’s sleek and graceful, in the way he moves and talks, even in the way he just lies next to him, silently studying him.

Oikawa darts his tongue out to wet his lips, and Kuroo’s eyes glide right along with it, following his tongue across his lips until it slips back into Oikawa’s mouth. It’s the sexiest thing Oikawa’s ever seen anyone do with their eyes. Lips curling into an amused smirk, he does it again, in the other direction and much, _much_ slower, just to watch Kuroo’s eyes as they gradually move from right to left, following the movement of his tongue like a laser until Oikawa pulls it back in.

His smirk soon turns impish. He can’t say that he dislikes the attention at all, because it’s easy to ignore how intoxicated he is when Kuroo’s staring at him like he can’t wait to tear him apart.

Oikawa trills his tongue up at him and winks.

 “You’re staring kind of hard there. Finally getting ready to pounce, kitty cat?” He murmurs, sitting up on his elbows so he and Kuroo are eye to eye. The sudden shift in position makes his head spin, but Oikawa does his best to ignore it. Kuroo sizes him up slowly and silently for a few seconds. Oikawa can’t figure out what the look on his face means, but Kuroo’s smirking faintly; it’s barely noticeable but Oikawa can tell it’s there, and he hopes it means what he thinks it means.

Kuroo’s had him on a nice slow burn for the past couple of hours; dangling the carrot, so to speak, but it’s really about time they got this thing going.

“Kitty cat…” Kuroo repeats eventually, laughing to himself, “I kind of like that.”

Oikawa shifts closer and kisses Kuroo’s jaw. “You remind me a lot of a cat. It’s a little uncanny.” Oikawa grins. “I bet you’re _very_ flexible.”

“I am.”

“Ooh, can you suck your own dick?”

For some reason, that sounded much sexier in his head. Oikawa would smack himself if it wasn’t for the fact that it would probably make him puke to move. Kuroo stares at him with wide eyes for a second before he suddenly erupts with laughter, tipping back onto the mattress as he loses his bearings.

“Oh my _God_ , Oikawa. I can’t believe you just asked me that.” He says between laughs. Oikawa shrugs, starting to laugh too. Might as well go with it.

“I’m just curious. While we’re on the subject.”

Kuroo throws his arms over his eyes, shaking from laughter. Oikawa waits until Kuroo’s laughter dies down before leaning closer to him, propping his head up with his hands. “I really wanna know.”

Kuroo snorts, but to Oikawa’s satisfaction, Kuroo is starting to turn pink in the cheeks. “You can, can’t you?”

Kuroo exhales sharply, gathering himself.

“…Um, jeez. Okay.” He bites at his lip and shakes his head. “I _tried_. Once. Just to see if I could.”

“Well can you?”

Kuroo drops his arm down to his side and turns to face Oikawa, a smile on his face that looks like it may turn into a grimace very quickly. “Kind of. If I try really hard _and_ completely ignore the fact that my spine is not a bendy straw, I can just barely flick the tip with my tongue. But that’s about it.”

“Impressive.”

“Not _quite_ the word I would use, considering I almost broke myself in half trying. I just couldn’t let it go. But hey, if I surgically remove like four of my ribs, I could do it pretty easily. Or maybe if I start doing yoga? Hunh. Possibilities.”

Oikawa drops his hand and lies against Kuroo’s shoulder, laughing quietly. “Yeah, anything’s possible if you try.”

“Indeed.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes, listening to each other’s breathing and the sounds of passing traffic outside.

“Eh, maybe not yoga. It’s kind of hard. And boring as shit.” Kuroo says out of nowhere, and Oikawa laughs against his arm. “It is?”

Kuroo licks his lips, laughing. “Yeah. I had to go to my mom’s yoga class with her one day after she picked me up from school. I had a doctor’s appointment right after so we didn’t have time to stop at home. So I just had to sit there, watching all these middle-aged housewives doing fuckin’ yoga and I got bored. In the end, I got tired of just watching and grabbed a mat and started doing it too.”

Kuroo pushes his fringe back and leaves his hand there, resting it on his scalp.

“It’s crazy ‘cause my mom’s in the… advanced… level? I guess? I dunno. All I know is that when they went into this one insane pose, the only ones that could actually do it were me and this like ninety year-old lady. You lay on the ground with your chin on the floor and your hands pressed to the ground.” Kuroo holds his free hand up in front of him, describing it, “But your hips are up in the air. You bring one leg around, ‘til it’s _past_ your head, and you balance with your big toe a few centimeters above the ground.”

“That sounds…really painful.”

Kuroo nods fervently. “Oh, it was. I was sore for a few days; in places I didn’t even know _could_ be sore. But it didn’t hurt to do it at the time. My mom was so mad at me. She’s been doing yoga for years and she still can’t do it. The instructor was really impressed with me.”

Kuroo turns to him. “I didn’t mean to show her up, you know? I was just bored.”

“I wanna see this.”

“Right now?”

“No, of course not _now_. Normal yoga sounds like a broken neck waiting to happen. Can you imagine trying it while shit-faced drunk?”

“You’re not wrong about that. I’ll show you one day. Just remind me.”

They soon fall silent again, aside from the little mewls of pleasure Oikawa lets out every so often when Kuroo starts to make circles on his thigh with his open palm.

“You’re really sensitive.” Kuroo whispers after a while, a teasing smile on his face.

“I’m really _drunk_.”

“Mm…this is a nice buzz.” Kuroo continues, ignoring Oikawa’s somewhat indignant rebuttal. His hand moves from Oikawa’s hip to his penis. It’s half-hard already from the proximity, the alcohol, and Kuroo’s gentle ministrations, but when Kuroo starts to pump him slowly, it doesn’t take long until it’s fully erect in his hand. 

Oikawa moans into the crook of Kuroo’s neck. Kuroo’s hand is warm and it feels nice.

“Here,” He says, reaching down over Kuroo’s shorts, caressing the bulge, “Let me.”

Kuroo eyes him for a second before lying back against his pillow and lifting his hips off his bed, pushing his shorts down. He kicks them off and nudges them off the edge of the bed onto the floor with his foot. He strokes himself languidly for a second, sighing, while Oikawa just lies next to him, watching with a sort of drunken fascination as Kuroo strokes the both of them.

“Come here, lie on your side.” Oikawa soon commands softly, gripping Kuroo’s hip, gently rolling him onto his side so they’re facing each other. He slides closer, until his cock is pressed right up next to Kuroo’s.

“I’ll do us both.” Oikawa murmurs.

Kuroo moves his arm to cradle his head so he can watch Oikawa jerk the two of them off. Oikawa reaches down and wraps his hand around the tips of their cocks, teasing nerves to attention and setting both of their pulses on a steady climb. Gradually, he moves his hand down their shafts, giving them a gentle squeeze at the base before moving back up.

Kuroo’s little ‘mm’ at the feeling is encouraging, to say the least. At the most, it makes Oikawa want to push Kuroo onto his back and jerk him off harder, until Kuroo is a writhing, fidgety, moaning mess. But that’ll come soon, he thinks to himself, so instead Oikawa sets an easy pace, not moving fast enough to get either of them off, but just enough to get them wanting and flushed. Kuroo is already panting softly, and Oikawa can hear himself starting to breathe faster, too.

He’s good with his hands, there’s no denying that.

“God, I love the way you do it.” Kuroo groans, as if someone sought to reaffirm what Oikawa himself already knew. No harm in fishing for a compliment, he thinks. He wants to hear Kuroo say it. “Oh?”

Oikawa looks up. Kuroo is looking down, watching Oikawa’s hand work the both of them steadily, and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Feeling eyes on him, Kuroo glances back up and suddenly they’re eye to eye again.

He nods. “Your hand’s kind of rough. It feels really good.”

Oikawa leans in, his lips just hovering over Kuroo’s. “You…” He pauses for a moment, not entirely sure how to phrase it, “You like it kind of rough, don’t you Kuroo?”

Kuroo shrugs his shoulder noncommittally, a look passing over his face as he does it that Oikawa can only interpret as ‘who can say?’

Kuroo lets himself tip over onto his back, his eyes not once leaving Oikawa’s. It’s a wordless invitation, one that Oikawa accepts wholeheartedly. The second Kuroo’s head hits his pillow, Oikawa’s lips are on his, feverish and desperate. Kuroo buries his hand in his hair and pulls him down, deepening the kiss, eagerly probing and tasting him and allowing Oikawa to do the same.

At the same time, Oikawa’s hand is moving just below a frantic pace, but his cock feels hot from the friction of his hand, and not in the way he finds pleasurable. He stops cold, giving them both a rest. He focuses instead on kissing Kuroo and letting his hand roam over his side, familiarizing himself with the dip of Kuroo’s hip and back.

Kuroo pulls away after a while, pushing Oikawa up and off of him. Oikawa sits up, watching Kuroo curiously as he reaches behind him, feeling around in the space between his headboard and his mattress. He pulls out a small, clear bottle.

“Oh.” He says when he sees what it is. Right, lube.

Kuroo deposits it in Oikawa’s waiting hand gingerly. “Want me on my stomach or my back?” He asks. All things considered, it’s a fairly innocent question, but for some reason, it brings a heat to Oikawa’s face that he only realizes is very noticeable when Kuroo’s head falls back and he laughs at him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Well, not _yet_ , anyway.”

“Neither.”

Oikawa shifts over Kuroo’s body to sit up against the wall. It takes him a minute to gather his bearings and blink away the sudden dizziness, but once he settles himself with his legs stretched out in front of him, he beckons Kuroo over, patting his thigh. “Come on.”

Kuroo rolls onto his knees and shuffles over.

There is something almost too adult about the way Kuroo looks down at him as he straddles Oikawa’s hips. Oikawa’s trying to think through a haze of vodka in his brain, but in that moment, he can’t help but think that Kuroo is more inebriating and overwhelming to the senses than any liquor could ever hope to be. He could get addicted to this. Easily.

Their erections knock into each other as he sits on his thighs, and Kuroo exhales shakily against his cheek. Bracing himself with one arm on the wall by Oikawa’s head, he leans in and kisses the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. He occupies his other hand with Oikawa’s cock, jerking it slowly.

“What are you waiting for?” He asks. Oikawa shakes his head. “Just for you to get comfortable, that’s all.”

“I’m good. Go ahead.”

Oikawa pops open the cap on the lube and squirts a decent amount onto his fingers. He’s well aware that Kuroo’s watching him as he coats his fingers, but doesn’t say anything.

“More.” Kuroo says suddenly.

Oikawa looks at him. “More?”

“I like a lot.”

Oikawa squeezes the bottle and pours the slick lubricant onto his fingers until they’re thoroughly greased and it’s dripping onto his thigh. “Better?”

Kuroo nods and shifts closer, spreading his thighs a bit more. Oikawa reaches around, kissing Kuroo’s collar as he does, and spreads his asscheeks with his index finger and pinky. He dips his middle finger into Kuroo only up to the first knuckle before pulling out. He pushes it in again a second later, down to the base of his finger and leaves it there, gradually starting to pivot his hand, working the muscle open.

 Kuroo grips his shoulder tightly.

“Are you okay?” Oikawa asks. Kuroo nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It just takes me a bit to really relax into it.”

Oikawa smiles. “I’m not in any hurry.”

Kuroo smirks down at him and leans in, kissing him firmly on the lips. “Good.” He says when he pulls away.

Oikawa fingers his ass with just his middle finger for a bit, kissing at Kuroo’s neck and collar and murmuring encouraging nothings against his skin as he does. Kuroo’s body begins to lose its tension after a while, and he feels Kuroo start to relax in his hold, sighing into his hair. Oikawa adds a second finger after slathering more lube onto his fingers. Kuroo’s arm tightens around his neck for a second before relaxing again, and Kuroo lets out a small moan. The hand on Oikawa’s cock tightens, too, stroking him harder.

“Oikawa…” Kuroo breathes his name, starting to rock back against his hand. Oikawa’s lips start to bow into a smirk. His concern is beginning to fade, thankfully along with his dizziness, leaving only a sudden and intense curiosity.

_What kind of sounds can I get you to make?_

“Let’s change this up a bit, hm?” Oikawa says before pulling his fingers out. He grips Kuroo around the hips before dipping him backwards onto the bed. Part of Kuroo’s back lies on top of his bedspread, while the lower part of his back rests propped up on Oikawa’s thighs. It’s awkward at first, since Kuroo’s legs are so long, but Oikawa positions them with care until they rest comfortably against his hips.

“What’re you doing?” Kuroo asks, now looking up at him.

“Prepping you. _And_ indulging my inquisitive nature.”

Oikawa moves his hand from Kuroo’s hip to push his two fingers back inside him, this time with much less grace and trepidation than before. Kuroo hisses and grips at his bedspread.

“Did that hurt?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No, I’m alright.”

Oikawa pulls out, contemplating for a second. He presses his finger against Kuroo’s muscle, circling over it, along Kuroo’s hole. Against his hip, he feels Kuroo’s thigh start to tremble, and he smiles mentally.

He slides his fingers back inside Kuroo, thrusting them in fast and straight. Kuroo’s head lulls to the side as throaty moan escapes him. His eyes are shut tight. Oikawa stops moving his hand for a second, long enough for Kuroo to open them again, if only to look down to see why he stopped. When he has Kuroo’s full attention again, he starts back up, curling his fingers inside of Kuroo, brushing his prostate. Kuroo lets out a pitchy whimper, moaning his name softly. The sound of it makes Oikawa want to just ram himself inside of Kuroo already, but he forces himself to calm down, to enjoy the slow build up.

Kuroo is, after all.

He can see in his eyes that Kuroo is really appreciating Oikawa’s deliberate and erotic ministrations. He’s so incredibly at ease lying with Oikawa between his legs, even when Oikawa gets a little rougher, working him open with three fingers instead of two. _Especially_ when Oikawa gets rougher, in fact.

Kuroo groans loudly as Oikawa keeps hitting that one perfect spot, breathing growing more and more uneven as the seconds pass. He reaches down to touch himself, but Oikawa moves his hand away, tsking at him.

“About to come already?”

Kuroo lies there silently for a moment, staring up at him and breathing hard.

And then suddenly Oikawa finds himself flat on his back, Kuroo sitting on top of him, looking incredibly smug.

“Not quite yet,” He begins, “But I’ll be getting there pretty soon.”

Kuroo looks behind him and spots his lube. Oikawa watches quietly as Kuroo squirts a handful of it into his palm before tossing the bottle aside. Kuroo reaches back behind him, wrapping his hand around Oikawa’s cock firmly.

And just like that, it’s Oikawa’s turn to lose himself to the feeling of being touched. He moans low in his throat, fucking up into Kuroo’s hand as Kuroo strokes him and slicks up his cock, swiveling his hand knowingly over the tip and brushing over it with his palm until Oikawa whines.

Kuroo leans down until their chests are just barely touching and places an unexpectedly sweet kiss on Oikawa’s lips, followed quickly by one more. He grips Kuroo’s hips tight, kneading the flesh of his right hip with his thumb.

“Ready?” Kuroo murmurs, voice so incredibly low and heady in his ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Kuroo places his hand firmly in the middle of Oikawa’s stomach, pushing himself back up. Oikawa reaches down and grabs hold of his cock, holding it steady so Kuroo can press himself against the tip, gradually fucking onto it. Oikawa pushes in, meeting him halfway, guiding Kuroo’s body down onto his erection until Kuroo is fully seated on his cock. Kuroo lets out a harsh, uneven breath, brushing his fringe out of his face.

“Kuroo?”

Kuroo nods, gathering his bearings. “Gimme a sec.”

He moves his body upward, quite easily thanks to the overabundance of lubricant, but now Oikawa kind of gets why Kuroo uses so much. Kuroo seemingly doesn’t need more than a few seconds to get used to the stretch before he lets himself fall back down, and then back up, starting to ride Oikawa’s cock in a slow, serpentine rhythm.

Oikawa’s eyes flutter and fall shut, panting softly in time with each pump of Kuroo’s body. He lies back against Kuroo’s pillows and folds his arm under one, propping himself up to watch Kuroo ride him. The other rests on Kuroo’s hip to help keep him stable. He bucks his hips up, thrusting lazily against Kuroo’s faster, more purposeful movements. The mismatched pace only adds to the gradient of stimulation, and the room is soon filled with moans and the sound of skin moving and slapping against skin.

“Kuroo…” Oikawa chokes out when Kuroo starts to fuck himself just a little too fast on his cock, moaning loudly with his head thrown back. Kuroo rocks back slowly, supporting himself by gripping Oikawa’s thighs tightly.

“Yeah?” He sighs out after a near eternity. Oikawa wets his lips, smirking. “What’s your hurry?”

“I’m getting tired.” Kuroo says, laughing to himself before grimacing. “Ah, fuck. I drank way too much.”

Oikawa grips Kuroo’s cock in his hand, stroking it slowly. The tip is already moist with precum, which Oikawa wipes at with his finger.

“Don’t. Not yet.” Kuroo pants out, shaking his head as he leans down and kisses him messily, moaning against his mouth. “Just fuck me.”

Oikawa doesn’t need to be told twice. He thrusts upward into Kuroo harder and faster, holding him tightly and kissing him, muffling every sweet and enticing noise Kuroo makes. He already feels the familiar warmth of his orgasm building up at the base of his spine, and Kuroo definitely isn’t far behind. He’s right there with him.

Oikawa pushes Kuroo up, bouncing him gently on his cock. Kuroo’s eyes roll back into his head, moaning Oikawa’s name as his head lulls, until he’s facing the ceiling, leaving his neck and chest completely exposed.

The orange lighting in the room reflects off of the sheen of sweat that runs down Kuroo’s chest in a way that catches Oikawa’s eye and Oikawa quickly sits up, ignoring the way the room spins as he does, to kiss along the side of Kuroo’s neck and shoulder, licking and biting at the flushed, moistened skin. He squeezes Kuroo’s hips tighter, pulling Kuroo into him, driving himself deeper inside.

Kuroo drapes his arms over his shoulders, circling them around his neck. Kuroo’s head falls forward and then their foreheads and noses are touching, and suddenly this feels way more intimate than Oikawa is sure he would be comfortable with were he sober.

 It’s a good thing he’s not.

He’s fucking wasted and the only thing he cares about right now is the utterly primal look in Kuroo’s eyes and the way his lips and tongue feel as he crushes their lips together again. He opens his mouth eagerly, letting Kuroo completely dominate the kiss. He wonders if it is possible to taste like heat, because it’s the only way he can describe how Kuroo tastes. He tastes hot.

But it’s getting hard to keep Kuroo’s features in focus, so eventually, Oikawa closes his eyes and allows himself to be pushed back down onto the bed, giving himself completely over to the overwhelming feeling of Kuroo’s tight heat moving over his cock. It’s nearing impossible to meet his wild, desperate thrusts, so Oikawa stops and just lets Kuroo take control, content to just listen to his shallow breaths and low, indolent moans as he fucks himself senseless.

Kuroo’s cock, remaining more or less untouched until now, drips onto his stomach. Oikawa bites his lip and grabs it, stroking it roughly in time with each thrust.

“Fuck…” Kuroo groans loudly. He looks down at Oikawa, smirking ferally and licking over his teeth with his tongue as he pushes his sweaty fringe back and out of his face. “Harder.”

Oikawa obliges him, moving his hand hard and fast until Kuroo’s breath hitches with a high-pitched grunt and his head falls back, riding Oikawa’s cock with feverish, uneven thrusts, pushing himself over the edge.

He comes hard in Oikawa’s hand, warm semen shooting over his stomach in two spurts. The rest trickles down over his fingers as he gently pumps Kuroo’s cock, milking the last of it out. Oikawa’s own orgasm follows a few seconds later. He pants Kuroo’s name loudly, wildly thrusting his hips up into him as the warm wave passes through his body, making his back and thighs spasm.

“God…” Kuroo groans, gripping Oikawa’s thigh so tightly that it hurts as he slowly rocks forward, still grinding against Oikawa’s cock, eliciting a few more soft moans out of both them before easing to a stop.

 It passes too quickly, Oikawa thinks. But he’s exhausted and he has this nagging feeling that he might be visiting the bathroom very soon. Despite this, he’s satisfied. He caresses Kuroo’s hip, smiling up at him. Kuroo sits above him, still seated on his dick, eyes closed and breathing deeply, trying to steady himself.

He eventually moves to lie next to Oikawa, smiling drunkenly into one of his pillows.

“I forgot how good riding a dick feels.” He mutters after a beat, laughing tiredly, “My legs are gonna hurt so fucking bad tomorrow though.”

He turns to Oikawa. “You want a towel or something?”

“Mm.”

Kuroo sits up with a groan and reaches down off the bed, grabbing a plain t-shirt off of a small pile of laundry. “I gotta do my laundry anyway,” he says quietly, “Just use this.”

Oikawa nods, not really caring what it is, and wipes himself off unhurriedly. He figures Kuroo won’t mind, so he tosses it back on top of the pile when he’s done and lets out an audible sigh. His eyelids feel so heavy, it’s hard to keep them open. Kuroo is talking to him, but he only catches part of what he’s saying. Something about a shower.

“Hn?” He murmurs, trying to focus.

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” Kuroo repeats, a little slower. Oikawa shakes his head.

“No, stay here for a bit. Sleep with me.”

“I can’t sleep when I’m sweaty.” He hears Kuroo whine quietly, but regardless, he curls up into Oikawa’s side, running his hand up and down his side affectionately. It doesn’t take long, but soon the two of them drift off, sleeping off their intoxications. Sexual or otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surfbort. That's all I have to say after this entire thing lmao
> 
> Speaking of, the artist I had originally commissioned to do the cover of my fanmix for this fic fell through, so once again, I am looking for someone to do the cover art for me! If you're interested, please submit a sample art piece you've done to my blog on tumblr [kurootetsurouvevo] and we'll take. Just note, I'm looking for a specific kind of art style, so please don't take it personally if I don't pick yours. I appreciate you taking the time to do it regardless.
> 
> That all being said, until next time. Happy and safe holidays everybody :D
> 
> Up Next: Rainy Days and Eyes Aglaze


	6. Rainy Days and Eyes Aglaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey all! First update of the new year :D Hope you all had a nice holiday!
> 
> So a few things. One, thanks so much for the continued love and support. All of your wonderful comments and kudos fuel me and keep me going! I just wanted to address something that I noticed some people seemed to take issue with, and that was Kuroo bottoming, for some reason. I just want you all to be aware that the 'seme/uke' trope is actually really offensive and most real relationships outside of BL where that trope is most prevalent do not function like that. At all. Granted, I'm sure there are couples who are comfortable with that dynamic and it works for them, but you cannot apply it to every single relationship; it pigeonholes characters into that idea that one has to be masculine and one has to be feminine, and that's degrading and it's not okay. There is give and take in many relationships, though it varies from couple to couple. I had my reservations about posting this mini-rant, but I feel this is something that needs to be stated and solidified from now. This fic is going to be pretty long, I think, so I want my readers coming into it with the right mindset.
> 
> That being said, Kuroo and Oikawa will be switching off the dominant/submissive positions pretty frequently in this fic, so yeah. Any comments or concerns, hit me up on tumblr.
> 
> Also, they'll be slipping more fully into their canon personalities from here on out; I kept them as IC as the situations up until now would allow, but now that they are actually interacting...be prepared for a lot of bickering and sarcasm between hook-ups, lol
> 
> Anyway, read on and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Haikyuu belongs to Haruichi Furudate. This fic was written solely to entertain.

The sound of his phone’s alarm blares like a doomsday siren and jostles Oikawa into consciousness. His dreamscape slows and distorts into amass of bodies and swirled colors before going black and he jerks awake with a sharp inhale; he looks around quickly, confused and disoriented by the change in décor before he eventually remembers that he’s not in his dorm room. He’s in Kuroo’s. The mild panic ebbs away as fast as it comes, leaving only the dull ache of the night’s activities in his limbs and between his legs, as well as a splitting headache. Oikawa groans with discomfort.

“God…” He whimpers into his pillow, pinching his eyes shut. He hasn’t had many hangovers to speak of, but it is clear that this may very well be one for the books.

From somewhere in his backpack, he can hear his nine a.m. alarm still resounding annoyingly at full volume. If there was ever a time Oikawa regretted picking the most shrill, unforgiving, unholy sound to be his morning alarm, it is definitely right now.

He shifts to get up and turn it off, and it is then that a warm, way too close presence makes itself known on his left.

Though his head is crammed inelegantly between two pillows (there is no humanly way that can be comfortable, Oikawa thinks), Kuroo is lying tucked right up against him, pressed so close against Oikawa’s side that it’s a miracle they haven’t fused into one being. His arms are wrapped around Oikawa’s torso and his right arm so tightly that Oikawa is certain at least two of his ribs are cracked. There’s just no way they  _can’t_  be. His left arm is trapped under Kuroo’s body from where he had it curled around him during the night, deadened from the lack of circulation, cut off under Kuroo’s weight. Their legs are a tangled mess of limbs.

His alarm is still sounding from his bag, impossibly loud and it’s making Oikawa’s headache worse. He also has to pee, as it turns out, and the sudden and insistent need to relieve himself only makes Kuroo’s vice-like grip feel even tighter.

“Kuroo, let me up.” Oikawa whispers, wriggling in Kuroo’s arms. His plea is answered with an unintelligible murmur from somewhere underneath the pillow settled on top of Kuroo’s head, followed by soft, even breathing.

“Hey, Kuroo, wake up!” Oikawa calls again, a little louder this time, but Kuroo’s grip only seems to tighten more. A sense of urgency starts to well up in Oikawa; his alarm is grating and his bladder is about to pop but Kuroo’s pillow is giant and thick… he can’t hear it at all, probably. Oikawa manages to shift his arm from under Kuroo’s and pushes back against his chest, struggling to tug his other arm free with a pained grunt.

“Your grip,” Oikawa grunts, “is surprisingly strong,” another pained noise escapes him, “nn- Kuroo-chan!”

Somehow, be it through divine intervention or sheer willpower, Oikawa finally manages to wrench his lifeless arm free. He tries to push against Kuroo with both hands, but it just flops down to the side, tingling painfully as the blood begins to circulate through it again. It twitches and Oikawa bites back a pained whimper.  _God_ , he thinks,  _this is torture._

With no other choice but to lay still until his arm is fully functional, Oikawa settles down. Tuning out his alarm, which is still going strong in the background (he had set it to go off for ten minutes before turning off, a decision he cannot possibly regret more), and ignoring the sharp, tingling sensation of his arm returning to life, he looks around, getting a better feel of Kuroo’s room.

…And to be blunt, Kuroo’s room is a fucking mess.

With the heavy, sexually-charged atmosphere of the previous night having all but dissipated; it simply looks like the room of the quintessential eighteen-year old boy, away from home and on his own for the first time. Clothes and loose sheets of paper are littered all over the floor, along with the odd pen or sock. Posters of bands and such obscure the plain walls of the dorm beneath; Oikawa recognizes a few of them but the ones that he doesn’t, he regards with intrigue.  _A lot of western bands…_  Oikawa notices.

Kuroo’s TV is still on, though the screen has gone dark from inactivity. Oikawa glances around for a remote but doesn’t spot one anywhere. Instead, he spots an empty pizza box sitting on top of Kuroo’s desk, weighted down by several textbooks, all with clusters of papers hanging out of each of them.

Oikawa’s eyes skim over the titles.  _Jap. Lit., Pre-calculus, Chem. I, Economics, and…_

The spine of the last book is facing the opposite direction so Oikawa can’t see it. Next to the precariously stacked textbooks, to the side of the pizza box, there are a few novels and graphic novels sitting haphazardly against each other, along with some sort of sports magazine that Oikawa can’t quite make out from where he is. Kuroo’s got an athletic build, so it’s not that surprising that he’s into sports. It’s something to talk about later, Oikawa thinks to himself with a smile.

His arm isn’t tingling anymore, so, satisfied with his first bit of morning pre-exploration, Oikawa yawns and resumes his struggle to free himself from Kuroo’s grip. And after a few minutes of fruitless struggling, he finds himself fairing no better than before. For someone who is slighter of frame than he is, Kuroo’s arms are surprisingly strong.

“Kuroo-chan, seriously, I have class now! Please!” He pleads, but his whines fall on deaf ears. Oikawa huffs. Kuroo’s probably awake. He’s probably just messing around. Oikawa reaches for the pillow resting atop Kuroo’s head and lifts it gently, expecting to find Kuroo awake and smirking, but to his surprise and irritation, Kuroo is not only asleep, he’s out cold. His soft breaths puff against the bottom pillow, a line of drool trailing from his open mouth.

 _Sexy_. Oikawa thinks with a mental snort. He pushes against Kuroo’s chest again. Kuroo mutters something crankily in his sleep and his grip tightens. Oikawa curses to himself and then sighs. The room is noticeably quieter than before; at least his alarm finally stopped beeping. Thank the gods for small favors.

He still has to pee though, and, he realizes with a frown, he has biology in less than fifteen minutes. Which means he’s already running late.

“Kuroo, come on, Kuroo-chaaaaan…wake! Awaken!” He shouts into Kuroo’s face, but the dark-haired teen is practically comatose. Oikawa yanks Kuroo’s top pillow down and starts to cram it between them. “Here, a replacement.”

Incredibly, that seems to assuage his sleeping partner. Oikawa finally manages to wrench himself from Kuroo’s grip and stuffs the pillow into Kuroo’s now unoccupied arms. Kuroo wraps himself around the unfortunate pillow in a split-second, so fast that Oikawa falls with a thud and a loud ‘holy shit!’ from the bed from too much momentum, built-up from pushing against Kuroo’s chest.

“Wrah!” He exclaims as his unclothed butt hits the floor. He winces and shifts to his knees, leaning his forearms onto the bed for support. “Ugh, ow…” He stands to his feet shakily, rubbing his now sore backside. Kuroo is curled around the pillow, still sleeping soundly, unaware of the ordeal he has just put Oikawa through.

Oikawa glowers.  _Must be nice._  He thinks, irked at how blissful the other teen looks.

With time ticking against him, he decides to take care of all his morning business back in his own dorm room, so, resolved to hold it in until he gets there, Oikawa quickly goes about gathering his clothing from the floor and dressing himself, though he decides against putting his briefs on after noticing the dried fluids crusting the front.

“Gross…” He mumbles to himself, even though he knows it’s his own pre-cum that he’s glaring disdainfully at, and tucks his underwear deep down into his back pocket instead.

He looks over his shoulder at Kuroo as he finishes gathering his things, grinning widely when Kuroo mumbles something about chicken in his sleep before violently kicking out and rolling over, flopping gracelessly onto his stomach. He settles down after a moment with a tired exhale, still talking sleepy nonsense.

It suddenly occurs to Oikawa that it would be fucked up of him to just  _leave_. He thinks for a second before setting his bag back down and grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from Kuroo’s desk. He quickly scribbles a note to leave on Kuroo’s nightstand for when he wakes up.

**_Hey, sorry to leave like this, but I have bio in a few minutes and my teacher is pretty strict about attendance. I had a nice time last night, and I hope you did too. I hope this isn’t a one-time thing._ **

Oikawa pauses, unsure.  _I don’t want this to be just a one-time thing._  But for some reason, reading that on paper rings with a sense of desperation and clingy-ness that Oikawa doesn’t feel comfortable leaving. That seems like something better said in person rather than on paper, so Oikawa erases it and instead settles for **_I’ll see you around, sometime_**. He signs his name at the bottom.

**_p.s. You look so cute in your sleep. Sweet dreams, drool bucket._ **

Oikawa snorts to himself and sets the note on Kuroo’s nightstand before seeing himself out.

* * *

It’s going to rain later, Oikawa thinks to himself, dead-eyed and sullen as he looks out the window. The sky is dark and overcast, rumbling with distant thunder and the promise of an unseasonable downpour. Oikawa pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling his sinuses inflame from the pressure of the storm. Coupled with his already brutal hangover…

Oikawa groans. His head is about to split  _open_.

It’s fitting that the sky is so gloomy, Oikawa thinks. It looks and sounds just like he feels. Awful.

 _It’ll be a miracle if I make it through this class._  He thinks to himself as he fishes in his bag for his water bottle and aspirin. He pops three of them with a generous gulp of water, already feeling the pressure starting to subside.

“…awa-san?”

Oikawa jumps when a soft voice suddenly calls to him from his right. He looks over and sees one of the girls in his class sitting in the seat next to him with her notebook clutched to her modest chest, watching him curiously with wide, doe-like eyes.

“Did I scare you?” She asks, tone timid and apologetic as she tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

“Oh, hello, Keiko-chan.” He says, slipping into his usual pleasant demeanor with practiced ease despite feeling like absolute shit, flashing her the most charming smile he can muster. “You just caught me daydreaming, that’s all.”

“Is there something you needed?” He asks, leaning back against his seat, crossing one leg at the ankle over the other and clasping his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs. Her cheeks go pink, and she shies away slightly.“I was just wondering if you could help me with the assignment from last class? U-um, you seem like you take good notes, and-”

She’s cute; easily the cutest girl in the class, according to many of his male classmates who’ve been salivating over her since the first day of class. Oikawa can’t say he disagrees with them either. She’s more on the quiet side, but she is lovely and intelligent and from the way her friends giggle and point at the two of them from across the room, it’s not hard to see that she has a crush on him, much to the dismay and envy of the other guys in his class.

Most would find the position of ‘class idol’ uncomfortable, but to Oikawa, it is familiar territory. If nothing else, having one or two or five girls crushing hard on him in each of his classes or around campus gives Oikawa a sense of comfort. It’s nothing new, nothing unpredictable, nothing that throws him off.

Oikawa looks around her at her group of girlfriends and a few of them wave at him, giggling. He waves back, and they erupt into a cacophony of noise and pink faces.

Clearly, she’s not the only one, either.

 _It’s like high school all over again,_  he thinks. But he can deal with puppy-love and wayward affections, as long as he’s on the  _receiving_  end of them.

“Yeah, I can help you, sure.” He says amiably.

Keiko brightens. “Really? Thanks so much!” She pulls open her own notes and while she searches for the assignment, Oikawa notices his phone vibrate. He reaches for it, nodding that he’s listening when she stops to ask him if he’s alright, and smiles when he sees who’s finally awake. He quickly opens Kuroo’s text, though he has a feeling he already knows what it says.

**_WTF I’m not a drool bucket. RUDE >:[ >:[ >:[_ **

Oikawa chuckles to himself.  _Yup._

**_Kuroo if you drooled anymore you’d need a dam_ **

Kuroo’s reply is nothing if not hilariously indignant.

**_Way to add insult to injury!!!! First you abandon me after our night of drunken passion and then you call me names??_ **

One more message beeps.

**_AND leave me alone to deal with this_ **

Keiko points out a few specific questions in their textbook, drawing Oikawa’s attention away from his phone and back to his textbook. Oikawa recalls those same questions, remembering the trouble he had before he finally managed to find the answer, after a lot of rereading and frustration. He guides her to the correct passage of text in the chapter, and as he’s talking, his phone vibrates again. He opens the message curiously, still talking about the specifics of cellular mitosis as he does.

His jaw goes slack and Oikawa nearly ignites right in his seat.  _Oh MY GOD._

“What are you looking at, Oikawa-san?”

“Wha?” Oikawa squeaks as his gaze shoots up from his phone. Keiko is staring at him with wide eyes, as are many of his classmates. It is with a discomfited whimper that Oikawa realizes he just shouted that out loud, rather than in his head. He instantly slams his phone face down on the table, not really caring if he damages the screen in that moment. A broken phone is much better than the  _alternative_. He wipes his forehead with his sleeve, feeling a cold sweat break out across his hairline and down the back of his neck; his entire body is hot, both from arousal and a level of mortification unlike any he has ever felt before in his short eighteen years of living.

Most of his classmates shrug and look away, resuming their studies, but Keiko looks from him, to his phone, to him again, eyeing him strangely. Strangely and perceptively.

“Are you okay?” She slowly questions a few seconds into their awkward staring contest. Oikawa nods cautiously; though he himself is not entirely sure if that’s true. Actually, he is sure that he’s not okay. At all. He’s not sure whether to tackle Kuroo with kisses or punches when he sees him. Maybe both.

He hurriedly shoves his phone in his back pack. “I’m fine. Great. Peachy! Did you need anything else?” He blurts out, smile wide and straining his cheek muscles from how forced it is.

“No…that’s it…” She replies, still eyeing him with uncertainty. “Thanks Oikawa-san.” With that she quietly shuffles back to her seat, looking over her shoulder at him once before sitting down with her friends again.

Alone again, Oikawa flops forward face-first into his bag, willing his face back into a normal color.

* * *

“Who even sends people dick pics before noon?” Oikawa snaps the second he spots Kuroo on the path heading towards their dorm. He clubs Kuroo on the arm for good measure, earning a half-hearted ‘ow’ from Kuroo in between his laughter. “Oh come on, it was a good picture! You have to admit that it was a good picture of me. And certain parts of me.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah fine, I won’t argue with that. However, I’m pretty sure everyone in my biology class thinks I have issues now.”

“Why?” Kuroo asks. They fall into a comfortable gait, heading back towards their dorm together.

“Because I sort of freaked out when I opened the message. Really loudly and noticeably.”

“Uh…sorry, I guess. But that’s what you get for ditching me. I usually jerk off in the morning anyway, but I would’ve preferred  _your_  hand instead.”

Oikawa laughs. “Believe me, I would’ve much rather stayed in bed with you than go to class. But since I’m convinced that my teacher moonlights as a serial killer, I don’t go out of my way to get on his bad side. He doesn’t really like me all that much to begin with, I think.”

“A serial killer?” Kuroo snorts.

“Yes. He seems like the kind of person who has bodies stuffed in the walls of his house. He gives off that kind of ‘I eat babies’ vibe. And I know it’s not just me; everyone is scared of him.”

Kuroo snaps his fingers. “Oh wait, is he that really tall guy with the thick-rimmed glasses and slicked back hair? And he always wears that dumpy looking green jacket?”

Oikawa snorts into his hand. “Yeah, that’s him. Tell me he doesn’t have that vibe. He does, doesn’t he?”

Kuroo nods in agreement and shrugs his backpack higher onto his shoulder. “He really does. I had him for chemistry at the beginning of the semester but I dropped the class. He just seemed like a giant tool.”

“He is.” Oikawa quickly cuts in. “Remember that day we kinda hooked up but Bokuto interrupted?”

“It was like a week ago, dude.” Kuroo cuts in dryly, “How could I forget?”

Oikawa shoves Kuroo in the arm. “I-shut up, you know what I mean. Anyway, well when we were texting afterward, he caught me and almost took my phone away. He said if he caught me doing it again he’d read my messages out for the class to hear.”

Kuroo quickly turns his head, expression incredulous. “Wow, what a dick.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” A thought occurs to Oikawa then. “That reminds me, where is Bokuto, anyway?”

“I told you, he’s on the other side of Tokyo ‘til Sunday night.”

“Yeah, but you never told me why. Is he on vacation or something?”

Kuroo grins toothily. “…Of sorts. He’s probably diddling his loverboy at the moment, I’m sure.”

Oikawa’s eyebrow quirks. “Loverboy? You mean he has a boyfriend?”

“Yup. They don’t get to see each other that much since his boyfriend’s still a third year in high school, so whenever he gets the chance, he’s over there with him.”

Oikawa nods, taking in the information. “Boyfriend, huh?” Kuroo flashes him a mischievous look. “Sorry to disappoint you. Looks like someone’s not getting spitroasted anytime soon.”

It’s clearly meant to be a jab, but it’s completely lost on Oikawa, who just stares at him, a look of bewilderment spreading across his face. “What’s that mean?” Kuroo’s eye widen, as does his smile. “You know what it means.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “No I don’t, seriously.”

Kuroo’s mouth falls open with a little ‘wow’, but he moves a bit closer, smile bordering on shit-eating. “Alright then, you know in a threesome, when one person is in the middle and someone’s in their butt, or pussy, if it’s a girl, and the other person’s in their mouth? That’s what being spitroasted is. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”

Oikawa chokes. “I-I didn’t know that had a name!” He says, a little louder and squeakier than he would’ve liked, “And what the hell makes you think I wanted that?” He did kind of want that, but  _Kuroo_  does not need to know that, especially with the way he’s side-eyeing Oikawa, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“You learn something new everyday. And please, don’t even try to act like you weren’t checking Bo out. He’s pretty oblivious to that kind of attention, but I’m not. And for the record, you’re not exactly subtle.”

Oikawa flushes.“He looks really good, okay? Especially with his hair down. Sue me for noticing.”

“I know.” Kuroo chuckles. “It suits him. I tell him he should leave it like that more often but he prefers it gelled until it’s bulletproof.”

“Besides, Bokuto isn’t really into group stuff.” Kuroo pauses for a minute, thinking. “At least, I don’t think he is. Weirdly, we’ve never had a conversation about this.”

The question rolls out of Oikawa’s mouth before he can stop it, and the second it leaves his mouth he instantly wishes he could take it back. “Are you?”

That familiar creeping feeling of cold sweat spreads quickly under his collar and down the small of his back at the look Kuroo gives him. It’s not angry, or aroused. Kuroo’s mouth hangs open, though his mouth is upturned in marked amusement, his eyes pinned on Oikawa’s. It’s a look that clearly says ‘Holy shit, I can’t believe you just asked me that.’ If it weren’t for his pride, Oikawa would run all the way back to his dorm, just to repeatedly knock his head into a wall and wallow in miserable embarrassment in private.

But he already asked, so he decides to just roll with it, even when Kuroo starts to laugh. He keeps his expression steady and expectant, waiting for an answer.

“Um,” Kuroo begins when he settles down, looking upwards in thought, “I’ve never done it before, but I’m not opposed to the idea. I guess it depends on who the other people are.” He looks back at Oikawa, that same contemplative look still on his face. “Have you?”

“Er…” Oikawa starts before chewing on his lip. He thinks for a moment, before finally sighing aloud. Might as well be honest. “Yeah, once.”

Kuroo looks impressed. “Wow, really?”

“It, um, it wasn’t like full-on sex though,” Oikawa quickly adds, “I was with my then girlfriend and her best friend. They both went…” His voice lowers, face heating up, “…they went down on me at the same time.”

“Nice. That’s like every straight guy’s fantasy to be with two chicks at once.”

Oikawa shrugs, pointedly staring at the ground. “Um, I guess, don’t know. It wasn’t really like that. More of a ‘spur of the moment’ thing. We were all hanging out one night and well, it just kind of happened. I chickened out before it went any further though. It just…it got weird really fast.”

“Mm. I see.” Kuroo replies, and the subject soon drops.They walk in silence for a bit before Kuroo looks over at him again, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “So, I’m guessing, bi?”

Oikawa blinks. “Huh?”

“You,” Kuroo continues, “You’re bisexual?”

“Wha-oh, yeah. Yeah, I am. You?”

Kuroo nods. “Same, actually.”

A group of girls walk by the two of them, going the opposite way, and a few of them wink in their direction. After they pass, a burst of loud giggling erupts behind them. Kuroo grins at Oikawa, and for some reason, it’s infectious. Oikawa finds himself smiling back widely until Kuroo moves closer and nudges him in the side with his elbow.

“Oooh, look who’s Mr. Popular.” Kuroo says, snickering. Oikawa pushes him lightly. “Oh, hush.”

To Oikawa’s pleasure, Kuroo doesn’t move away after the initial contact; instead he loops their arms together and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Oikawa follows suit, and they walk along, comfortable with the other’s presence. It looks friendly enough so that people passing them by don’t question it or even spare them a second glance, but when they’re out of sight, Kuroo leans in close and pecks Oikawa firmly on the cheek, close to his ear.

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he goes rigid. “Oh…”

“That’s my answer to your note.”

Oikawa looks at Kuroo, an eyebrow quirked. “Answer?”

“Yeah. You said you hoped that I had a nice time last night, too. And that’s me saying that I did. Kind of a shame that we passed out so early though,” He continues, a little quieter, huskier, “Because I  _really_  wanted to go for round two.”

“Hence the raging boner pic at nine something in the morning?”

“Just wanted you to see what you were missing out on. Although, I willingly admit that before today, I have never in my life sent a nude.” Kuroo smirks. “College is  _truly_  a time of limited inhibition.”

Oikawa laughs aloud at that. “Indeed, it is.”

“Promise me you’ll delete it later, though? Nothing personal, I’m just paranoid about that kind of stuff.”

Oikawa nods and takes out his phone. “I hear you on that. You never really know about people nowadays.” He goes through his pictures until he finds Kuroo’s and deletes it. He smiles over at Kuroo, who’s looking down at the screen of his phone, a mystified look on his face.“What?”

“You take an insane amount of selfies. Goddamn.”

Oikawa clutches his phone to his chest, embarrassed. “There’s nothing wrong with taking a lot of selfies! I like the way I look!”

Kuroo gives him a look. “Dude,” He says, taking out his own phone and thumbing over to his gallery, “I’m totally fucking with you.” He holds it up, showing Oikawa. “Believe me, I’ve got you beat. Oh, which reminds me. Gotta take my daily selfie. Come ‘ere.”

“Daily selfie?”

Kuroo nods, throwing his arm around Oikawa’s waist and pulling him in close. “Yeah. It’s a thing me and my best friend Kenma do. He’s a third year in high school still, and we’ve been friends since we were kids. The separation’s been kind of hard on him, so this is a thing we thought of, you know, to keep in touch between visits, aside from skyping and dumbass snapchats. I send him one, and he sends me one back and vice versa.”

“Aww. Me and my friend should do that. We just skype.”

 _Iwa-chan would delete all of my selfies though,_  Oikawa thinks to himself.

Kuroo presses their cheeks together and snaps the picture. Oikawa leans in to see it when Kuroo goes back into his gallery. “Oh, that’s a nice picture. My hair looks great.”

“Oh, good for you,” Kuroo quips sarcastically, “I look like a homeless bum who just stumbled out of the woods!”

“You look fine,” Oikawa says, looking at Kuroo disbelievingly. Kuroo shakes his head.“My hair is extra effed up today. It’s all this humidity. God…”

Oikawa reaches over and runs his hand over Kuroo’s hair. “And if you didn’t sleep with your head smashed between two pillows-”

“-Yes, I’m aware of that.” Kuroo cuts in, “I can’t sleep any other way though. Let me be.”

“…Is your death grip part of your normal sleep routine too?”

Kuroo doesn’t get the chance to respond, however, because the second he opens his mouth, the sky brightens with several streaks of lightning; the cracking and rumbling of thunder in the distance follows soon after. Oikawa lets out a loud noise when a raindrop hits him square in the eye. “Ah!” Another drop hits him on the forehead. Kuroo looks up at the sky. “It’s starting to rain.”

A drop hits him on the nose and his face wrinkles. “And of course I don’t have my hoodie.”

“Because that would be convenient.” Oikawa pipes in, cramming his books into his bookbag hurriedly as the rain starts coming down harder. Kuroo follows suit, cursing aloud.

The moderate rain quickly breaks into a full on downpour. The raindrops are fast and almost cutting, coming in nearly sideways from the wind. Despite this, Oikawa continues walking at a steady pace, even when Kuroo starts running ahead. He looks back and sees Oikawa walking along, hair stuck to his face and his expression one of glum acceptance.

Kuroo stops. “You okay?”

“I’m great.” Oikawa says loudly over the rain.

“Is your knee bugging you? ‘Cause of the rain?”

“Yes and no.”

Kuroo waits until Oikawa catches up and they fall back into step. “Déjà vu.” He says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.Oikawa smiles. “Only this time, I  _refuse_  to run. I’d rather catch a cold than deal with that kind of pain again. That was a nightmare.”

Kuroo hums in disagreement. “I don’t know if that’s necessarily  _better_ …but we’re like a thousand miles away from our dorm so I think we’re kinda fucked either way. No point in running, to be honest.” He tugs at his shirt with a frown. “I’m taking water on faster than the fucking titanic.”

“No complaints here.” Oikawa says impishly, wiggling his eyebrows when Kuroo gives him a pointed look,“White shirts and rain are a match made in heaven.”

They walk in comfortable silence after that, aside from the occasional yelp from Kuroo when lightning strikes. Oikawa links their arms, tugging him close, grinning teasingly. “Scared of lightning?”

“No, it’s just loud, that’s all.” Kuroo brushes his arm against Oikawa’s chest. “And, my God, if your nipples get any harder you could probably cut diamonds with them.”

Oikawa backs away and covers his chest, sputtering. “I’m cold! S-shut up!”

It’s Kuroo’s turn to go impish. “Remember those pointy boobie cones Madonna wore that one time? That’s what your nipple feels like.”

Oikawa growls and gives Kuroo’s nipple a hard tweak. Kuroo wisely drops the nipple thing after that.

Eventually, they make it back to their dormitory and by that time, the both of them are so thoroughly soaked that their clothes drip onto the tiles of the lobby. Grumbling and shivering, they trudge across the lobby to the elevator and pile inside. Thankfully, there’s no one else around to hold them up, so Kuroo jabs at the door close button repeatedly until the door slowly begins to slide closed and the elevator starts.

“I’m cold.” Oikawa says after a beat, a tremor creeping up his body. Kuroo looks at him out of he corner of his eye, amused. “You didn’t want to run. So, kind of your own fault.”

“I stand by my decision. I’d rather be just cold than cold  _and_  in pain.”

Kuroo nods. “Huh, fair point.”

They stand in silence for a bit before Oikawa feels Kuroo’s eyes on him again. He looks over. Kuroo is leaning against the railing, bouncing back and forth off his arms, humming to himself as he looks at Oikawa. He almost comments, before something else catches his attention.

“Oh my god, Kuroo.” Oikawa says, snorting into his hand.

“What?”

Oikawa tries to talk, but all that comes out is another peel of bubbly laughter. “Oh my  _god_ , Kuroo,” He manages to say between laughs, pointing upward, “How the hell is your hair still sticking up like that? Do you gel it with gorilla glue?”

Kuroo glares at him. “I don’t  _have_  any hair gel in.”

Oikawa explodes into another round of loud guffaws when Kuroo’s hands fly up to his hair, looking comically panicked. “Shut up!” He all but shrieks, covering his head with his hands, shielding it from Oikawa’s overly amused eyes.

“You’re soaked to the bone, but it’s still sticking out all over.” Oikawa frays out his fingers to mimic Kuroo’s wayward locks, tears streaming down one cheek from laughter. Kuroo scowls at him, eyes dark and bitter. But Oikawa finds it hard to be intimidated. “Kuroo-chan, I don’t think it’s bedhead. Did you stick your finger in an electrical socket when you were little?”

Kuroo flips him off.“Fuck off. You and your stupid perfect boy band hair can fuck right off.”

Oikawa’s laughter dies down after a bit, and he leans into Kuroo’s side, ruffling the wet, dark mess of hair. “I’m just teasing. I like your hair, Kuroo-chan. It’s cool.”

“Wait…Kuroo- _chan_?”Oikawa beams up at him, still giggling to himself while messing with Kuroo’s fringe. Kuroo jerks his head out of reach, groaning in annoyance. “Sto-oooop.”

“Don’t be so salty, Kuroo-chan. There’s people that pay big money to look like they got struck by lightning.”

“All I did was get out of bed. And stop calling me Kuroo-chan. I’m not a ten year old boy!”

“It feels weird just calling you Kuroo though. Kuroo-chan has a cute ring to it.”

Kuroo glowers. “It’s giving me indigestion.”

Oikawa brushes his hand over Kuroo’s fringe again, still laughing loudly. “It’s so soft, and yet it sticks out like a rooster crown, amazing…” He says, snickering, “It defies all explanation.”

Kuroo flicks him on the forehead. “Can it, pretty boy.”

Oikawa moans, rubbing his forehead. “It’s just hair, Kuroo.”

“Says the guy who looks like he just walked out of pop idol magazine.”

“Well,  _you_  look like you just walked out of a Visual Kei magazine. All you need is some make up and a flashy costume. That’s pretty cool, right? It’s not as bad if you think about it like that.”

“No.”

Oikawa throws his arms around Kuroo’s neck, twirling the finer hairs at the nape of his neck with his finger. Kuroo gives him a look, to which Oikawa giggles at and leans in for a kiss. Their lips brush before Kuroo once again cranes his head away. Oikawa frowns. “What?”

“Oh no,” Kuroo says, shaking his head, “You don’t make fun of me and then try to kiss me. Hell no.”

“Kuroo-chan!”

“Stop calling me Kuroo-chan, and no!”

Oikawa nuzzles his cheek, smiling against it and peppering it with annoying little kisses. Kuroo grunts as he tries to free himself, but he eventually gives up when Oikawa backs him into the corner, kissing and biting at his bottom lip.

“I really like your hair. It makes you look wild and dangerous.”

“Now you’re just being an asshole.”

“Why? I’m serious.”

Kuroo pinches him in the side and Oikawa jolts and backs away, clutching the sore spot in pain. “Ow.”

“I’m sensitive.”

Oikawa smiles. “You want me to apologize?”

Kuroo folds his arms across his chest. “Yes.” He snaps, tone laughably petulant. It’s so cute.

“Fine, sorry.”

“Thank you.”

Oikawa takes his phone out of his bag. “You know, we should take another picture though. One of us post-running out of the rain.”

“We didn’t run.”

“ _Walking briskly_  out of the rain.”

“There you go.”

Oikawa moves to stand next to Kuroo, and they both lean in, hair dripping onto their faces and each other’s shoulders. “Say cheese!” Oikawa says.

“Shitty weather!” Kuroo says instead. Oikawa snaps the picture and they both look at it.

“Hunh, I actually like it.” Kuroo admits after a few seconds of staring at it. Oikawa nods in agreement. “Me too. My hair looks good wet, too.”

“One day, you’re going to wake up in a pool of your own hair, and you’ll remember this day, Oikawa.”

“How ominous. Stop being so salty.”

“You and your stupid beautiful hair can kiss my ass. How’s  _that_  for salty.”

A witty response rests on the tip of Oikawa’s brain tongue, but it is quickly snuffed out when a new idea starts to brew in the back of his mind. Kuroo seems to notice the sudden change in his demeanor, looking at him curiously. Oikawa smirks and leans in, kissing Kuroo’s earlobe.

“…Would you feel better if I let you mess it up?”

* * *

“Ah, fuck, Kuroo!”

Oikawa has to admit, Kuroo was right about the headboard thing. It  _is_  a very satisfying sound, especially in the throes of wild (possibly angry, in Kuroo’s case) sex. It thumps against the wall at a fast, even cadence, matching Kuroo’s thrusts and his harsh pants against Oikawa’s neck.

This isn’t how Oikawa initially intended to spend his afternoon; pissing rain outside and wet clothes scattered all through Kuroo’s dorm, trailing to the bedroom they  _almost_  didn’t make it to, but he’s not at all displeased. In fact, the chances of going to his afternoon class dwindle into the single digits with each rough thrust of Kuroo’s hips into his and every noise and moan they let out.

Kuroo laves up his jaw with his tongue, nipping at his neck and collar, murmuring something that makes Oikawa’s whole body flare with heat and drag his nails down Kuroo’s back. His other hand travels up into Kuroo’s hair, mussing it as he pulls Kuroo down for a messy open-mouthed kiss. He keeps dragging his nails down,  _hard_ , until his hand reaches Kuroo’s ass. He clutches the firm skin in his hand and nails, using Kuroo’s body as leverage to ram himself harder against his thrusts. Kuroo groans into their kiss and hikes Oikawa’s legs up higher, wrapping them around his waist.

When they eventually break their kiss, Kuroo’s thrusts slow to a stop and he pulls out, breathing hard. Before Oikawa even has the chance to ask what’s wrong, Kuroo grabs him by the hips and flips him over onto his stomach. Oikawa moans and laughs loudly, even when Kuroo lifts his hips off the bed, so his ass is up in the air.

“On all fours.” Oikawa hears the clear command from somewhere behind him and pushes himself up, looking over his shoulder. Kuroo casts an appreciative look over him, nodding his head. “You look so good like that.” He says with a smirk, chuckling as he deals a swift smack to one of Oikawa’s asscheeks.

Oikawa yelps at the sudden sting, but the pain soon ebbs, leaving behind a pleasurable tingling that travels right up Oikawa’s untouched cock. He wants to touch himself so bad, but he forces himself to hold out until he’s right at the edge.

Kuroo presses closer, gradually fucking back into Oikawa with a soft exhale, trailing his hand up Oikawa’s back until it rests on his shoulder. He gives it a reassuring squeeze as he starts to move again. Oikawa grips the pillowcase tight, a small hiss escaping him as he starts to rock his hips back against Kuroo’s slow, lazy thrusts. They’re  _teasing_.

“Kuroo…” Oikawa whines, looking back at Kuroo again. Kuroo shakes his head, still smirking down at him. “Fuck yourself on it.” He stops moving, instead pulling Oikawa into him. Oikawa soon starts to move of his own accord, pushing himself into Kuroo’s cock with a soft moan.

Kuroo groans, biting his lip. “Yeah,” He breathes, “Just back into it.” His hand moves from Oikawa’s shoulder into his hair and grips hard, yanking Oikawa’s head back until it  _hurts_.

Oikawa cries out, immediately fucking himself harder and faster on Kuroo’s cock. God that felt  _good_.

Eventually Kuroo starts to move with him, until the sound of their lube-slicked skin slapping is all Oikawa can hear besides his moans and Kuroo’s. He arches his back with a loud grunt when Kuroo starts to ram into that perfect spot inside him, movements faster and more precise. His fingers tangle in Oikawa’s bangs, tugging them back and into complete disarray.

It’s probably fair to say that Kuroo feels much better now, Oikawa thinks.

His breath catches in his throat and he comes with a sharp inhale, head leaning back into Kuroo’s grip as his orgasm ripples through him and onto Kuroo’s bed underneath him. Kuroo follows a few seconds later, hips pounding into Oikawa’s backside wildly before stopping with a groan and his grip painfully tense in Oikawa’s hair.

His arms buckle and Oikawa falls forward, moaning appreciatively into Kuroo’s pillow. He feels empty but satisfied when Kuroo pulls out and carefully ties the condom off, searching around for his waste bin to get rid of it. He lays on his back next to Oikawa with a tired exhale, slinging an arm over his eyes.

“I really hate your hair.” He says after awhile. Oikawa laughs. “Why?”

Kuroo’s hand drops to his side and he turns to look at Oikawa. “All that pulling and mussing and it still looks good.” Kuroo grins, chuckling to himself. “Sex hair looks great on you.”

Oikawa slides closer until the two of them are pressed flush against each other, and lays his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. “You feel better though, don’t’ you?”

“Eh, a little.”

Oikawa smacks him on the arm and pulls the sheet over them.

He didn’t go to class that afternoon, and neither did Kuroo.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite chapter so far, aside from chapter four. Hope you guys liked it too!
> 
> Also, be on the look out for an (hopeful) influx of fic and art in the upcoming weeks! Oikuro week is happening from 2/9 to 2/15, Valentine's week, so I'm going HARD in my Oikuro, as will many others in this small but warm niche in the Haikyuu!! fandom. The tiny ship is growing steadily into an armada so HELL YASSS.
> 
> Up next: TBA because I have a few different ideas for next chapter at the moment

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated!


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